The Summer of '69
by Virgo Alien
Summary: In an alternate universe set in the late '60s, an all-female band creates a smash hit after their replacement drummer and jazz enthusiast Beca Mitchell takes it upon herself to change the band's sound at the last minute.
1. Prologue & Chapter One

**A/N:** Hello and thanks for dropping by! This story was inspired by, and written in anticipation of the 20th anniversary of, one of my all-time favorite movies, _That Thing You Do!_ written and directed by the amazing Tom Hanks (Copyright 20th Century Fox.) If you have seen the movie, know that this is a Bechloe adaptation (because Bechloe is Life) which means I changed some TTYD plot elements to contextualize it in a Pitch Perfect universe. If you haven't seen the movie, please do! It's not a masterpiece or anything but it's a feel-good movie with fun music and a great cast – and isn't that why we love Pitch Perfect? Haha.

Also, given that I wasn't alive in the late '60s and Google can only help me so much, please forgive any material or social anachronisms. But like it says in the summary this _is_ an alternate universe so... let's get this over with.

* * *

 **PROLOGUE**

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the stage... um, _Posen's Roses_ …?"

A smattering of applause rang across the dimly lit bar as a quintet of musicians began their brisk walk from the crowd to the stage. The announcer followed their approach with a confused pair of eyes as the band came to the light and revealed itself to be all female. He gave a small shrug before stepping off stage to allow them to set up.

"I thought we were going as Fat Power?" the blonde, heavyset Australian hissed loudly toward the front of the line. She was adjusting the guitar strap on her shoulder as the black woman behind her impatiently shoved her forward, eager to get to the drum set at the center of the stage.

"Fat Amy—move!"

"Bugger off, CR, just 'cause _you've_ got a part of your name in—"

Unfazed by the two arguing at the back of the line, the redhead near the front twisted her neck around to face the young brunette behind her. "Em, you got your pick with you?"

Big brown eyes widened in alarm and the girl began to panic. "Oh, shoot—!"

"Don't worry, I've got an extra—oops!" The small triangular piece of plastic slipped through the redhead's fingers just as she was pulling it out of the pocket of her jeans, and she accidentally poked the woman in front of her with the head of her guitar when she bent forward to pick it up.

" _Quiet_!" The tall and imposing blonde leading the group shushed her bandmates harshly with a glare. She positioned herself in front of the microphone stand as the others proceeded to set up their instruments amid the stone cold silence of the bar. She could sense the crowd slowly registering each of the feminine faces up on stage, because sooner than later someone cried out—

"Hang on, they're _girls_?"

A murmur erupted, following this realization, and the blonde singer sensed her audience growing restless. "Hurry up," she ushered over her shoulder. "Let's start now—on three… two…" Turning away from her bandmates' scrambling to get in position with barely a breath's notice, the frontwoman faced the audience and waited for her cue as the intro to the ballad shakily began.

She sang,

" _Every night I pray_

 _I'll have you here someday;_

 _I'll count the stars tonight_

 _And hope with all my might_ — _"_

Almost instantly, half of the crowd seemed to accept the fact that they were an all-female band and began swaying casually to the slow beat. The other half, however, groaned upon hearing the type of music to which they were being subjected.

" _And when I close my eyes,_

 _You'll be right by my side—_ "

"What is this crap?" the same guy from earlier heckled. "This is bumming me out, man!"

Unable to glare at him through the bar's smoky haze, the singer gripped the microphone tighter to release her frustration. But she kept her voice as soft and unaffected as she could so as not to destroy her precious lyrics:

" _If I could only have one wish,_

 _Be the guy whose lips I'd kiss—_ "

That was when the booing began.

"This is a bar! We didn't come here to have chicks sing us their mushy songs to sleep!"

"Hey, give them a break, you jerk!" a young woman near the stage yelled back.

But their sole vocal supporter was not enough to overpower the successive boos and jeers that ensued once dissent was expressed. Soon, balls of crumpled up paper and plastic cups were being thrown at the girls on stage. One dissatisfied patron even had the guts to reach over and topple the singer's microphone stand.

Fuming, the blonde stooped over to pick it up but by then it was too late; her band mates' playing had come to an awkward halt, which made the booing only seem louder.

"Come on, Bree, let's just go," the redhead said dejectedly, putting a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder. "They're just not into this kind of music tonight."

After glaring at the crowd for one last time, the singer conceded defeat and led the band off stage, much to the crowd's enthusiasm. Seeing no point in remaining at the bar, the girls headed toward the exit, and the jeers followed them even as they made their way.

"Yeah, that's right! Get outta here!"

"And take your boring music with you!"

"If you dykes need an excuse to hang out, just take up cross-stitching and stay the hell out of our bars!"

That was the last offense the band's drummer, CR, was willing to take gracefully. She swung her arm and socked the heckler right in the jaw. To absolutely no one's surprise, all hell broke loose and chivalry died right before their eyes as the man—or rather, the man's friends—retaliated by shoving CR onto a table, sending the couple sitting around it, and their food, flying in every direction. Fat Amy thrust her guitar into her bandmate's hands and let out a yell like a war cry before throwing her entire weight onto the man's friends, knocking them both down to the ground with her.

"Chloe, take Emily and get out of here!" commanded the singer, passing Fat Amy's instrument to the redhead. "I'll handle those two."

The redhead nodded and took the frightened brunette's hand. They navigated through the torrent of people making their way in the opposite direction to cheer the fight on, until they came upon a middle-aged man exiting a small office with a telephone still against his ear. His eyes widened in alarm upon seeing what was happening in his bar and then made contact with Chloe's.

"Oh, hells." He hung up the phone and gestured the two girls over. "Come here, dears, you better take the fire exit—"

The owner led them down a short hallway and pushed open the door for them before rolling up his sleeves and turning back to descend into the fray. When the emergency door shut behind him, Chloe took a deep breath of the fresh, cold night air and turned to Emily. "You okay?" she asked, rubbing the young teenager's back.

Emily's face was visibly pink with excitement. "That was intense," she breathed. "I mean, my dad always told me to stay away from bars but I thought it was 'cause of the alcohol—oh, gosh, my dad!" She clasped a hand over her mouth. "I am _so_ dead when he finds out about this!"

"Not as much as I'm going to be with _my_ father," Chloe said under her breath. She looked back at the door they had just exited, calculating how likely or unlikely it would be for the cops to be called, and then turned to Emily. "The owner seems to have everything under control so... how about we make sure our dads _never_ find out?"

"How is that possible?"

Chloe raised an eyebrow and waited for it to sink in for the innocent teen.

" _Oh_. We don't _tell_ them—right. Okay. Good plan!" Emily gave Chloe a wide grin and two thumbs up. "This is great! Going to a bar and lying about it—I'll finally have something to confess in church this Sunday!"

Chloe smacked her palm against her forehead at the same moment their lead singer emerged from the fire exit assisting CR, who was holding her arm gingerly. Fat Amy quickly followed, with her back to them and her fists still raised and combat-ready in case anyone attacked them from behind. Just before the door swung shut behind her, Chloe and Emily caught a final glimpse inside and saw the bar owner breaking people up and threatening to call the police.

"Cynthia Rose!" Emily cried in concern. She rushed forward to help sit the injured drummer on the hood of a nearby car. "Are you okay?"

"My arm," she replied with a wince, "I think it's broken."

"It better not be! We have that talent show next Saturday!" cried the singer.

Chloe threw her friend a chastising look. "What Aubrey means is, 'Don't worry, CR. You'll be fine.' Come on, my brother can have a look at your arm."

Aubrey frowned. "Are you sure about that, Chlo? If he tells your dad—"

"He won't," the redhead promised. "I know things about my brother that would make my being in a bar look as innocent as picking flowers on a spring morning. Come on."

* * *

 **CHAPTER ONE**

"Back again?"

Beca Mitchell looked up from the record between her fingers to see Luke, the store's manager and only British person within a ten-mile radius, grinning at her from the door to the stock room. He was carrying a box of new records under his arm and, upon recognizing the freshly delivered package, Beca itched to have a look inside.

"Got nowhere else to be," she replied dully. Motioning at the box, she asked, "Are those new?"

Luke nodded and set it on the table. "There's something in here I thought you might like." He pulled out a small square package and brandished it enticingly at her. "Del Paxton. _Time To Blow_."

It took all Beca had to suppress a shriek as she reached out eagerly, like a child making a grab for candy. At the last second, however, Luke pulled back his arm and added, "You remember the deal, right? For every jazz record I get for you, you have to listen to one of The Beatles'."

Beca rolled her eyes. "You Brits and your Beatles… Fine. Now hand it over."

Although she was excited to listen to the record, Beca spent another half hour rifling through the shelves, looking for hidden treasures she might have missed the last three or four times she had scoured the store. Finding nothing more than decade-old unsold albums dumped on a small-town record store, Beca approached the counter to pay for the records when a harried middle-aged man skidded to a halt outside the store window. He pressed his face against the glass and peered inside before bursting in.

"There you are!"

The creak of the door caught Beca's attention and she turned to see the man making a beeline for her. She rolled her eyes and mentally prepared herself for the parental onslaught.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Mitchell," Luke greeted courteously from behind the counter.

Luke's well-timed greeting diffused the man's anger on account of social graces; he nodded politely in greeting before turning back to his daughter with a calmer, though no less sharp tone. "You're supposed to be helping your stepmother at the bookstore, remember?" he demanded.

"Right," mumbled Beca. She had genuinely lost track of time, given that there was nothing interesting for her to do that necessitated any kind of schedule—other than what her father had just pointed out. "I... forgot?"

"Don't give me that," scolded Mr. Mitchell, seeing through her insincerity. "You are here for the summer to learn discipline and responsibility, not," he gestured around them, "to add more to your record collection."

"Got it," Beca said stiffly. She grabbed her change and walked out of the store without another word, leaving her father alone with Luke in the dust of her rude departure.

Mr. Mitchell shook his head and wondered aloud, "Why can't she be more like the other young ladies her age?"

"Why would she, when she can be herself?" Luke answered with an innocent shrug.

* * *

After receiving uncomplicated instructions from her over-compensating-ly kind stepmother, Beca slipped on her earphones to fill her mind with music from the radio as she began the menial task of sorting books at her father's bookstore. The earphones were really more for her benefit than her stepmother's, as they provided a reason not to converse with her father's new (if one could count five years as "new") wife.

Ironically, however, it was for this reason that Beca wound up talking to Sheila anyway. Unable to hear the woman calling from across the store, Beca had to be approached and tapped on the shoulder. She look up and turned to see Sheila smiling sweetly at her. "It's closing time, Beca."

"Oh." Beca got off her aching heels and glanced at the clock, then around the empty bookstore. She couldn't have known it was closing time; the store was almost always as empty as it looked at the moment. "I don't really know what to do about that…"

"That's what I'm here to teach you," Sheila said cheerfully, holding up a ring of keys. "Your father asked me to show you how to close up so you could do it for the rest of the summer."

"Great," Beca muttered under her breath. She was already hating her first day of work there and was certainly not looking forward to three months of it.

Once Beca understood which keys went into which locks and whatnot, the two women closed up shop and Sheila made a show of dusting her hands. "That's it. You've got it!"

Beca nodded dryly and shoved her hands in her pockets. She was ready to walk away from the store and disappear into the sunset but she thought twice about leaving Sheila as rudely as she did her father earlier that day. She wasn't angry at _her_ , just her father, so Beca gave the woman a noncommittal wave before returning to the record store.

* * *

Luke kept his business open much later than any other store on the street did, although not so much because of foot traffic as it was due to the fact that the store doubled as a small recording studio. His patrons in the sleepy town of Barden, however, were mostly just members of the local church recording their hymns or sermons, which meant the studio was virtually unused most days of the week.

Sensing a kindred soul in the out-of-towner, on evenings he had to stay late to do the books Luke allowed Beca to mess around with the instruments, for which she was extremely grateful. It was the only time, and the only place, the skilled drummer could make use of her extraordinary talent, since her father neither appreciated nor allowed her bringing along a noisy distraction to Barden.

" _Sheila has very sensitive ear drums,_ " he had said. " _And it might be best that you take a break from all that noise yourself. You seem to be growing deafer every time I see you._ "

It wasn't that Beca was growing deaf; she was merely growing less tolerant of her father's constant nagging and chose to stop listening. She didn't think Francis Mitchell had the right to try being a 'good' father now, after years of absence. Though she despised having to spend the entire summer with him, she didn't have a choice as her mother was on a business trip to London and, according to her, 'wouldn't feel right leaving her alone without family.' But Beca discovered her mother's ulterior motive at her first night in Barden, forced to sit through her father's unsubtle attempts to convince her to go to college.

Beca didn't have the energy to argue that music was the only future she saw, so instead there she was, spending her evenings holed up in an unused studio at the back of a record store to avoid him.

Beca entered the studio and switched on a single light at the center of the room, where a drum set, which, days ago, was hidden under a dusty cotton blanket, now sat polished and ready for her to take control. But instead of heading straight for the welcoming stool she approached the gramophone in the corner of the room and placed her newly purchased Del Paxton record. As the room filled with the jazz musician's mellow tones, Beca closed her eyes and let the music sink into her skin, her flesh, and her mind.

She pulled her drumsticks out from behind her and twirled them. When ready, she jumped in and played along with the record, adding her own improvisations here and there. Even with her eyes closed, she struck the snare, the tom-toms, and the cymbals, and maneuvered the high-hat and bass pedals in tune with music she had only just heard, with savant-like precision and speed. Her whole body seemed to move rhythmically to the beat and her bottom lip was tucked lightly between her teeth as she jammed her heart out.

In that state of musical possession, Beca, as she often did, lost track of time. She must have been playing for almost half an hour straight, judging by the number of tracks she had played through. Her forehead began to perspire and her arms started to ache from their prolonged use until, finally, she ended the last track of the album with a flourish. She took several deep breaths and had planned to open her eyes slowly to adjust to the light, but they shot open instead when someone started clapping.

It couldn't be Luke. Beca had told him, politely, to _keep the hell out_ whenever she was drumming because she didn't like people watching her when she was letting loose. It was during sessions like this where Beca felt the most vulnerable, where she felt most like herself and didn't care what the rest of the world thought of her. Something about having someone else see her playing to her heart's content felt intrusive and wrong.

Beca quickly ran her forearm across her sweaty forehead and swung around on the stool. A young redheaded woman with the most striking blue eyes Beca had ever seen on a human being stood by the studio's door, giving Beca a mischievous, almost predatory, smile.

Beca licked her lips and cleared her throat. "Um, sorry, I didn't know the studio was booked at this time. Luke said—"

"Oh, no, I'm not here to record," the redhead assured her. "I was just browsing records at the store and I heard… what you were doing." She gestured at the drum set and added breathlessly, "You're _amazing_!"

Beca rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly. "Thanks."

The redhead continued to smile at her. "You know, you get this really goofy look on your face when you're really into it."

Beca blushed furiously. "Do I?" she said through gritted teeth. That was precisely why she didn't let anyone watch her; she couldn't control her expressions when she was a hundred percent into the music.

"It's cute!"

Being called cute was the last thing Beca needed to hear from someone who looked like _that_ , so she stood up, tucked her sticks in the back of her jeans, and made her way to the record player. The redhead's smile vanished as she watched the clearly offended drummer begin packing her things. "Please don't leave on my account! I'm sorry," she said hurriedly. "I wasn't making fun of you, honest! Look, can we start over?"

Beca hung her head; the girl was blocking the door so she supposed she didn't have a choice. She gestured to show that she was listening as she carefully took out the Del Paxton record.

"My name's Chloe. Chloe Beale." The redhead walked halfway to her and held out her hand.

Beca shook it warily. The name 'Beale' seemed vaguely familiar and she wondered if she had read it on some signs on her way to Barden. She guessed that this Chloe person came from a very wealthy family or just had a penchant for highly unusual clothing styles, for Beca was noticing for the first time that Chloe wore a leather jacket over what looked like a white top that was cut just above her midriff, a scarf wrapped loosely around her neck, and denim shorts. Beca couldn't get over how, unlike all women she had encountered in Barden, majority of Chloe's overall palette consisted of the color of her nicely tanned skin.

"Beca Mitchell," she mumbled distractedly, averting her eyes when she caught herself staring at Chloe's exposed midriff.

"Mitchell…" Chloe frowned. "Oh! As in, Mitchell's Bookstore? I didn't know Mr. Mitchell had a daughter."

"Probably 'cause I don't live with him," explained Beca. "I live with my mom in Maine. They're divorced."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

Beca nodded curtly. She was so used to similar conversations ending this way that she automatically continued walking toward the door, thinking this one with Chloe was over.

But the redhead casually swerved to reengage. "So you're new in town then."

Beca paused and looked back at the redhead to make sure she had actually spoken. "Uh, yeah," she replied slowly. "My first time actually."

"Then you need someone to help you learn the ropes, get to know Barden straight from a local," said Chloe, wagging her eyebrows playfully.

Beca almost cracked a smile at the offer. "I'm only here for the summer but thanks anyway."

"Darn it. Then what can I offer you in exchange for joining our band?"

Beca did a double take. "In exchange for _what_?"

"Joining our band," repeated Chloe. "Or at least, filling in for our drummer. She broke her arm at a—it's not important how," she pivoted quickly, "but we've got this really important talent show coming up. We're gonna split a hundred dollars if we win!"

Beca finally smiled at the redhead's enthusiasm. "A hundred bucks? I would've thought that'd be chump change for you."

Chloe tilted her head questioningly. "What makes you think that?"

Beca's eyes wandered up and down Chloe's body, landing on her chest and stomach twice more than necessary. Realizing what she might be implying by fixating on Chloe's physical attributes, she backtracked immediately.. "Nothing. Never mind—"

But Chloe had already caught her staring. "Is it the way I dress?" She fluffed her hair back and playfully struck a pose. "Yeah, I know it's a little out there, and my dad doesn't really approve of it either… But who cares, right? We aren't all proper southern ladies here at Barden. And I'm confident about _all this_." She gestured up and down her body.

Before Beca could stop herself, she agreed, "You should be."

Chloe had to bite her bottom lip to stop herself from smiling too widely at the unintended compliment, which made Beca feel obliged to smile back to balance the niceties. Yet for some reason, it didn't feel as forced as she wanted it to be.

A sudden knock on the door interrupted their exchange of smiles and a young man with perfectly slicked-back hair popped his head in curiously. "What's the hold up, babe?"

"Sorry, I just got carried away speaking to Beca here," replied Chloe, still not taking her eyes off the drummer, who was busy wondering how, between Luke and this guy, there was no shortage of attractive, movie-star-worthy young men in Barden, and as an afterthought whether they were just as desperate to leave the small town as she was.

The man politely tipped an imaginary hat at Beca and told Chloe, "Five minutes, okay, babe?"

When the door closed behind him, Beca motioned toward it. "Well, don't let me keep you."

"Nonsense," Chloe waved a hand dismissively, "you're great company. Besides, you haven't said yes yet."

Beca gave her a noncommittal shrug. "I don't know if I'll have the time this week. My dad kind of asked me to help out at the bookstore."

"Fair enough," nodded Chloe. "Ask your dad tonight then. If he says yes, come meet us for breakfast at Kay's Diner down on Cannon Road at eight AM tomorrow."

"And if he says no?"

Chloe gave Beca one last smile on her way out. "Come anyway."

* * *

Beca drummed her fingers on the steering wheel of her father's car nervously. She was almost an hour late, as evidenced by the clock on the dash. Contrary to her excuse the night before, she actually hadn't bothered to ask her father if she could play in a band so soon after being told to lay off of music for the summer. But she didn't think he would mind. It was just _one_ gig after all.

Beca looked down the street she had just turned to and scanned both sides for Kay's Diner. She located the aquamarine-colored restaurant and pulled to the side so slowly that the car behind her honked to get her to hurry up. She wasn't used to driving her father's older and lengthier car, so she ended up bumping into the blue convertible parked in front of her.

Cursing under her breath, Beca stepped out to assess the damage, rolling her eyes when the driver of the car behind her cackled as he drove past. She sighed in relief when she saw that there was barely a mark on either car. She looked up and saw a sticker of a musical note on the other end of the bumper and had an inkling it belonged to someone in Chloe's band.

When Beca finally managed to get inside the diner without further incident, her eyes instantly locked on to the ginger standing by the gumball machine placed conveniently near the entrance. Chloe was more conservatively dressed today, Beca noticed, in a dark-blue sleeveless dress. There was still something about her, however, that made her stand out among everyone else in her vicinity.

Chloe turned at the sound of Beca approaching and gave the brunette her signature, pearly white smile. "Boy, do _you_ misunderstand the meaning of fashionably late."

"Sorry," Beca apologized sheepishly and looked around at the nearly empty diner. "So where's your band? Don't tell me it was all a ruse to get me to have breakfast with you."

Chloe let out a tinkling laugh and took Beca by the wrist. She dragged her further into the diner, to a booth where a group of four sat: a slender blonde dressed in a vivid, almost eye-achingly pink dress; a larger blonde taking alternate bites between a burger and a hotdog; a pleasant-faced brunette sucking furiously on the striped straw of her milkshake, and a black woman with her arm in a sling taking down notes with the hand on her good arm.

"I thought we settled on The Revertebrates?" the brunette asked thoughtfully. She looked at the bottom of her now-empty glass and pouted.

"The _Reverberates_ ," corrected the blonde across the table from her. "And CR said there's a band in Orlando called The Reverb. It's a little too close."

"Let's just call ourselves The Band You're About To Hear," said the other blonde. Beca detected an Australian accent through the mouthful of food.

"Hey, girls!" Chloe chirped, cutting off any more responses. "Good news—I've found our new drummer!"

The four girls shot their eyes toward Beca and wordlessly began scrutinizing her. The Australian swallowed the last of her burger loudly and was to first to say, "No offense meant, friend, but you're kind of tiny. Can you even _reach_ the opposite sides of the set?"

Beca resisted rolling her eyes at the height joke. "I use extra long sticks," she answered back sarcastically.

"Girls, this is Beca Mitchell," said Chloe, powering through the frosty start. Then she began a round of introductions. "Beca, this is Aubrey Posen, my best friend and lead singer of the band. She also writes most of our songs." The pinkly dressed blonde eyed Beca cautiously and made no greeting whatsoever. Chloe pointed to the one in a sling. "That's Cynthia Rose Adams. You'll be, um," Chloe chose her words carefully, " _filling in_ for her on the gig this weekend. That's Emily Junk over there, the bassist and baby of the group!" The brunette scowled in mid-wave and stuck her tongue out at Chloe, but she cheered up instantly when Chloe tossed her a gumball. "And this is Patri—"

"Ah-ah. It's _Fat Amy_ to you," the larger blonde at the end of the booth interjected. Then, staring at Beca dead in the eyes, she added, "So twigs like you can't call me that behind my back."

"I—I wouldn't."

"Fat Amy is our lead guitarist," said Chloe. "She's an exchange student from Australia, so it's pretty lucky that we found her."

"That's right. I was the best guitarist in Tasmania—with teeth," boasted Fat Amy, to Emily's confusion.

An awkward silence followed the introductions while Beca stood beside Chloe feeling uncomfortably like a show dog being presented to a panel of judges. Chloe looked at each of her friends and raised her eyebrows expectantly. "Well?"

Cynthia Rose leaned her good arm on the table and said to Beca. "You seem really cool and all but how do we know you can play?"

"Oh, I can vouch for that," assured Chloe. "I overheard her jamming at Luke's last night. She was _amazing_ , trust me. She played along to this jazz record—"

" _Jazz?_ " The lead singer, Aubrey, finally spoke, and she did not seem impressed. She gave Beca's all-black outfit a once-over with plenty of judgement. "Why am I not surprised?"

"What, you don't like jazz?" Beca asked with a hint of condescension in her tone.

"It's not that I don't _like_ it," snapped Aubrey. "It's just…" She pursed her lips. "Whatever. Nothing's set in stone, Chloe. Beca still has to audition just like everyone else." She reached into her purse for a colorful flyer and shoved it towards Beca.

"Looking for drummer," Beca read aloud. "Must be female, have perfect pitch, and—" her eyebrows shot up "—'bikini-ready bodies'?"

"That last one was my rule," said Fat Amy. "I mean, we've got a reputation to uphold here."

"Your requirements are quite… specific."

"We spent the whole morning posting them around town," Emily said eagerly. "Someone's bound to see one and spread the word if they know somebody qualified, right?"

Chloe shook her head. "Beca's right. There are hardly any female musicians that play the drums _and_ look as good as she does." She waved a hand at Beca, who struggled in vain to stop her ears from turning red at the compliment.

Thankfully, Cynthia Rose pulled the focus away by agreeing with Chloe. "Gals like us _are_ a rare find. I hate to say it but Beca's likely our only option."

"Well, then, we'll just have to wait and see if that's true," said Aubrey, pointing to the bottom of the flyer.

"Auditions are from twelve to three—wait, I can't. I have to be at my dad's bookstore in ten minutes," said Beca, looking up from the paper. "I won't be out until five."

"Your dad is Mr. Mitchell?" Emily asked enthusiastically. "I love his bookstore! He lets me read the magazines without paying for them."

"Too bad about the time though," said Aubrey, sounding as insincere as she looked.

Beca turned to Chloe with a shrug and an "Oh, well," but the redhead was preoccupied with glaring at her best friend. A frown was forming between her perfectly shaped eyebrows and her eyes sparkled indignantly; she looked as if she wanted to say something but was keeping herself from doing so. Chloe's struggling made Beca realize just how much she wanted this to work out, and she felt an uncharacteristic itch to do something to please her.

Before she could change her mind about it, Beca reached behind her and pulled out her drumsticks.

"May I?" she asked, not really waiting for an answer as she took Fat Amy's empty plate and turned it upside down on top of an empty basket of fries. She gave the rim a few taps with her stick and shook her head. She paused, looking around the table for something better. She replaced Fat Amy's plate, upended the basket, and grabbed all of the girls' utensils to put in it.

Everyone watched her in stunned but excited silence. After seeing Beca tap various surfaces and objects a number of times with her sticks, they pretty much guessed that she was visualizing some sort of makeshift drum set out of anything within arms' reach.

After a few more taps here and there, and without any sort of signal to begin, Beca started off her impromptu 'audition' with a simple drum beat and seamlessly built it up to a more complex one to show her range. The sounds created by the diner and its fixtures were far from what an actual drum set could make but Beca had somehow turned those everyday sounds into brilliant and enchanting music.

Growing conscious of the fact that she was starting to attract attention from the staff and other patrons in the diner, Beca slowed down after a minute of playing, finishing off with a cymbal crash she voiced herself—" _Pshh!_ "—and gave them all a humble, tight-lipped smile in lieu of a bow.

Emily had her mouth open in utter adoration the moment Beca even began; Cynthia Rose looked as though she were reeling from a shattering eargasm, and Fat Amy outright rolled off the booth, got on her knees, and bowed at Beca's feet. Aubrey, however, resisted any form of outward appreciation—except for an eye twitch, which Beca took as a modicum of approval.

Beca turned at last to Chloe behind her and saw the same grin the redhead wore the night before, only this time it was mixed with glowing pride, something Beca did not expect to see. It wasn't uncommon for strangers to drop their jaws upon hearing her play, but no one—besides her mother perhaps—ever went got past awe to appreciate how hard Beca must have worked to get to that level of skill.

At least, that's what it _felt_ like to have Chloe looking at her that way...

"You're in. You're _definitely_ in!" cried Fat Amy, in between her kowtowing.

Aubrey cleared her throat, looked up at Beca straight in the eye, and formally declared, "Thank you for your audition. We will let you know the results after we have reviewed all the candidates."

That was good enough for Beca, who merely smirked and nodded at the blonde. She turned to leave the diner on a badass high note before suddenly remembering, "Oh, and, uh, is anyone parked outside? I kind of dinged a car with my dad's. It's barely a scratch but..."

The girls all exchanged looks. "What kind of car is it?" Fat Amy asked slowly.

"A blue Comet convertible, I think?"

"… That's mine," revealed Chloe.

Beca's face drained of blood. Great. There goes all the goodwill she had earned from Chloe from her first impression. "God! I'm so sorry—"

Chloe took several deep breaths and fanned herself with frantic hands, causing Beca to start freaking out as well. "I'm sorry! Listen, I'll take care of the scratch—it's really more of a smudge, but that's not the point. And, hey, breakfast is on me, okay?"

Chloe suddenly stopped her hysterics and broke into a teasing grin. "Relax, Beca! I was just kidding," she said, pulling Beca into a side hug to indicate that all was forgiven. The girls in the booth laughed, while Fat Amy, who was still kneeling on the floor, scowled up at Chloe.

"Oh, come on, ginger! She was just about to buy us all breakfast!" she whined, resting back on her heels and shaking her head at Chloe in disappointment.

"But you've already _had_ breakfast," Chloe pointed out.

"There's such a thing as second breakfast in America, no?"

"Actually, I was just offering to get Chloe's—" Beca started to explain but Fat Amy shushed her and ordered another tray of fries. She let it slide, mostly because she was relieved that she hadn't ruined anything with Chloe. Not that there _was_ anything to ruin... Beca shook her head and cursed herself for overreacting.

"Beca, if you're that worried about Chloe's rear bumper, you should see her front," giggled Emily.

Cynthia Rose narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. "There's a joke in there somewhere…"

Exhibiting the first non-hostile emotion Beca had seen from her that morning, Aubrey chuckled and turned to Beca to explain. "One thing you should _immediately_ know about Chloe after meeting her is that she is a _terrible_ driver. In fact, if you had hit the back of her car hard enough, you could have popped the front bumper and saved Chloe the hundred dollars she needs in repair costs."

"I wouldn't even be surprised if the scratch was already there before you even hit it," Fat Amy chimed in while getting up off the floor with difficulty. "It could have happened when she, I dunno, backed into a tree or something. It happens every other day."

Chloe rolled her eyes amid the laughter. "Okay, okay, enough with the bad driver jokes! Beca has to work." She held Beca by her shoulders and pushed her toward the exit. Once outside, Beca took a peek at Chloe's car to see the evidence; she had been fixated on her own offense that she hadn't noticed that a slight smudge on the rear bumper was the _least_ of the car's problems.

"Wow, they weren't kidding."

"Shut up!"

Chloe accompanied Beca to her dad's car and leaned against its passenger's side door once the drummer had popped in the driver's seat. "Thanks for showing up," she said gratefully.

Beca smirked as she started the engine. "Were you worried I wouldn't?"

Chloe returned the smirk with one of her own and backed away without giving Beca an answer.

* * *

Later that day, Beca was focused on fixing a low display of magazines that a group of teenagers had messed up when the bell atop the bookstore's front door dinged loudly. Beca and her finely tuned sense of hearing have been working at the bookstore long enough to know that this was not a normal customer. Casual visitors usually made a soft, ringing sound when they came through the door slowly; this one came in with a deliberate and determined _TING_.

Beca straightened up and was immediately tackled into a hug by an excited Chloe Beale. Beca mentally added 'hugger' to the list she had begun compiling the previous night of the things she knew about Chloe Beale—right below 'dresses weird.'

"You're in!" the redhead exclaimed, releasing their embrace and grasping both of Beca's hands in hers. "Not that we weren't going to accept you anyway—but now it's official!"

"Wow," said Beca, still dazed from the spirited hug. "Barden must really be lacking in talent if a couple of knives and forks beat out an actual drum kit."

"Actually, CR and I were right; no one showed up for the auditions," said Chloe. "We gave it, oh, ten minutes before Aubrey finally agreed to let you in. I mean, it's ridiculous—it's only _one_ gig, I don't get why she had to be so uptight about it... But I guess if we do great then maybe you could—"

Beca looked past Chloe and her rambling as soon as she heard the bell ding a second time. Her father walked in and she didn't miss the small frown that formed on his brow accompanying the assumption that she was killing time talking to a friend instead of working.

Chloe noticed Beca's distraction and followed the drummer's gaze to the man frowning by the door. "Oh! Good afternoon, Mr. Mitchell!" she said brightly, quickly catching on to the situation. "Beca was just helping me find, um... She's really great at—at—" Chloe shot her arm to the side and blindly grabbed the nearest magazine she could reach "—great at helping me find exactly what I was looking for."

Beca looked down at the magazine thrust into her chest and smirked. " _T_ _his_ is exactly what you want?"

"Hmm?" Chloe turned away from giving Mr. Mitchell her dazzling smile and glanced at the _Playboy_ magazine Beca was holding up. The smile slid off Chloe's face but smirk on Beca's only grew smugger.

"Um… yes," Chloe said through gritted teeth, shifting to the side to try to block Mr. Mitchell's view of the racy cover. "Like I said, you were _really_ great at finding _that_. It was almost like you've memorized where it was."

Beca scowled at Chloe for dragging her into the mess she created. Her father grew suspicious and asked, "Finding what exactly?"

Beca gave Chloe a light shove in her father's direction and quickly darted behind the counter to make the transaction, leaving a flustered Chloe to come up with an answer. "Oh, it's just, you know, fashion and… politics and… stuff. Wow, look at me chattering on like a monkey. I'll let you get back to work, sir!" Chloe rushed back to Beca and smacked her on the arm once Mr. Mitchell was safely in his office. "You could have swapped the magazine, you know!"

"What, and miss that memorable moment?" sniggered Beca, waving a hand over what had just happened. "Tell me, what fashion tips do you read Playboy for exactly?" she asked in mock seriousness. "Is it men's fashion? 'Cause if it's the women's, I gotta say—"

"Oh, grow up," said Chloe, the corners of her mouth climbing upward as she handed Beca the cash. "There are actually some well-written articles and short stories in there."

"Yeah, and I bet the piece on the politics of women's right to be gawked at by men was done tastefully, too," Beca deadpanned as she handed Chloe back her change and her wrapped-up purchase.

Chloe laughed. They stared comfortably at one another over the counter for a beat before Chloe cleared her throat and said, "So band practice is tomorrow at Aubrey's house. Here's her address." She pulled out of piece of paper from her purse and gave it to Beca. "We start at three and usually end around six, or until Aubrey thinks we've done enough."

"Cool."

"Don't be late this time," warned Chloe, backing up the small aisle on her way to the door.

Beca followed her. "I won't," she promised, making a show of crossing her heart.

Chloe paused with her arm on the handle. "You know," she began thoughtfully, "I think we're going to be really fast friends."

Beca watched Chloe get into her car and quietly muttered, "I'll say..."

In just the past twenty-four hours, Chloe had already seen (though 'caught' was the more appropriate term) her drumming unrestrainedly—something no one else on Earth, not even her mother, had ever succeeded in doing—which was an act virtually equivalent to seeing her naked and vulnerable. Beca imagined it would be hard to keep any secrets from Chloe after that embarrassing experience.

She spotted Emily in the passenger's seat of the blue convertible and waved. The younger brunette waved back at the precise moment the bubblegum she was blowing popped and covered her entire face. Beca shook her head in amusement as she watched the car drive away, reflecting on how she seemed to have attracted the weirdest residents of Barden in just her first week there.

"Was that District Attorney Beale's daughter you just sold a Playboy to?"

Beca jumped in surprise and glared at her father for startling her. "I don't know. Was it?"

"If it was, you'd best make a good impression on her," advised Mr. Mitchell. "Her father is a very important person in this town. Imagine someone like him on your list of college references…"

Beca rolled her eyes and got back to arranging the magazines, ignoring her father's droning while adding another item on the list of things she knew about Chloe Beale.

* * *

 **A/N on the title:** As you may already know, the title ' _That Thing You Do'_ is already used in a beautiful story by thatmitchsentho. After reading it, I'm happy to say that our stories only intersect at point Bechloe; other than that, I can safely go on writing without ruffling anyone's feathers! (If you do know of another TTYD-inspired fic, however, please let me know and I apologize to the author/s in advance for not reading yours first.) I decided to go with 'Summer of '69' after the Bryan Adams song because TTYD was likened to a line in the lyrics and because it just seemed to click. (This isn't a song-fic though.)

 **A/N to those who fo** **llow me as an author** **:** First of all, thanks for following me! And, yes, this is a product of yet another movie-induced stroke of inspiration and I promise it will be over quick (seven chapters to be exact). As I write this note, I am fully aware that I intended my last movie-inspired story ( _The Long Way 'Round_ ) to be over quick as well. My bad! I ran out of steam on TLWR because things start getting difficult for Bechloe, and all my other stories have Bechloe in troubled waters / have crapped on the idea of Bechloe altogether, so I wanted to write something happier for once. On a side note, Captain America: Civil War (the movie was superb) got me excited to get back to writing The Light. After this. Maybe. Cheers!


	2. Chapter Two

**A/N:** Quick update since this chapter is pretty much what the summary is all about. Also, I've never written a story with lyrics before – how do you prefer the formatting? Listen to the song if you'd like or, better yet, (re)watch the talent show scene 'cause Steve Zahn was _adorable_ in it.

* * *

 **CHAPTER TWO**

Beca drove past manicured lawn after manicured lawn in an upscale private village until she reached the exact address written on the paper Chloe had given her the day before. She spotted a bulky white-and-blue van that clearly didn't belong in that neighborhood parked at the end of the property's driveway, which signaled to Beca that they would be playing out of the garage. But she had just begun walking up the stone pathway leading to the garage when the front door swung open and a stunningly-blonde woman in a blue dress and red apron greeted her with a steaming pie in her oven-mitted hands.

Beca's eyes widened at the quintessential American housewife before her. "Hi. I'm here for—"

"Aubrey's band practice?" the woman smiled, her voice as sugary sweet as can be. "Come this way, dear, practice is in the basement."

Beca was then led through a sparklingly clean hallway and down polished wooden steps to a carpeted, low-lit basement ("They're down there, honey, go ahead"). The walls had a soft look about them and the air felt muted—evidence that the basement was soundproofed. As Beca descended the steps she also noted its spaciousness, allowing them to move around their instruments and equipment quite easily, and there was even a small mahogany bar on top of which lay a pitcher of iced tea and a couple of glasses.

Beca had to hand it to Aubrey; she knew how to host a band practice.

Against the wall behind the stairs sat a large, blue couch on which Chloe was sitting, flipping through a magazine—though not her new Playboy one, Beca noted amusedly. She also took note of the fact that there was no one else in the basement despite all the instruments and microphones already being set up.

"Am I… early?"

Chloe looked up and beamed. "Hey, you!" she greeted. "You're just in time actually. Aubrey's just having a chat with her dad and Fat Amy snuck into the kitchen again."

"And Emily?"

"Right here!" the young brunette popped up behind a large amplifier. "I dropped my pick again and now I can't find it…"

Chloe pulled Beca down onto the couch beside her. "So, are you ready?" she asked.

Beca gave her a blank look. "For what? I don't even know what type of music you guys play."

"Good point." Chloe stroked her chin thoughtfully. "Hmm, we never really put a label on it. We just play what sounds good for us."

Beca raised her eyebrows and bobbed her head. "Okay…"

Chloe narrowed her eyes at Beca's response. "What? Does the musical genius look down on us simpletons for not knowing all the theories behind _genres_ and styles and whatever?" She folded her arms in mock offense. "I bet you turn your nose up at people who can't differentiate between blues and jazz."

Beca raised her hands in surrender. "Hey, those were all your words not mine." Then she frowned. "Wait… you don't know the difference between blues and jazz, do you?"

Chloe huffed and went back to reading her magazine, though Beca could see her smiling behind it. "Also, nobody said I was a musical _genius_ ," she clarified with a hint of smirk on her lips. "Maybe borderline superior but certainly not a _genius_ —ow!"

Chloe had given up reading and hit Beca playfully in the face with a throw pillow. "You just can't help being conceited, can you? Argh—!"

Beca had grabbed the pillow from Chloe and returned the gesture. She didn't know why she found teasing the redhead so natural (and so pleasurable); there was, after all, nothing about Chloe that made her an easy target and nothing about Beca that was remotely playful. All she knew was that she felt a tingling sensation in her gut whenever she elicited any kind of reaction from Chloe, and she preferred that reaction to be mirth.

Before their playing escalated into an all-out tickle fight, Fat Amy came thundering down the stairs with a donut in her mouth and two more looped around a finger in each hand while a slice of pie lay in both palms. She muffled an unintelligible greeting in Beca's direction on her way to the bar.

As she watched the Australian pile her sugared pastries onto a plate, Beca turned back to Chloe and asked, "So how did this eccentric group of people get together?"

"Eccentric?"

"I mean, you've got the outlandish foreigner," Beca gestured at Fat Amy, who was digging heartily into her snack. "The innocent, clueless puppy—" Emily chose the perfect moment to reemerge from the floor with a pick between her teeth.

"Grrt it!" she cheered.

"—the uptight commander," Beca continued, jerking her thumb toward the ceiling. "And... well, you."

"' _And, well, you_ '?" repeated Chloe, unimpressed. "No, you can do better than that. Come on, which oddball member am I?"

Beca hesitated before answering, "The District Attorney's daughter?"

"Aw, lame!" Chloe shook her head. "But true," she added with a sigh.

"So what's the story?" prodded Beca.

"Well, it all started with Aubrey and me, I guess," she replied. "We were in our school's choir group together and we bonded through singing. Eventually we moved on from church songs to singing what was on the radio. As a joke we started changing the lyrics to fit a girl's perspective—you know, changing the 'she's' to 'he's.' It came to a point where we realized there actually wasn't much music out there by women and we decided to make our own."

"That's pretty cool," said Beca. "So you're also the band's singer?"

"I sing back-up vocals—harmonizing and stuff. We all do, really," explained Chloe. "But, as Aubrey and I soon realized, a duo of vocalists wasn't really that exciting. My brother used to play guitar when he was younger so I had him teach me some stuff and once we got over that hurdle, things sort of exploded.

"We came up with tons of songs—mostly for fun, but some really had potential. We started playing at parties for our families and friends for about a year until Cynthia Rose heard of us and asked if we wanted a drummer. Aubrey had been thinking of getting a percussionist but she didn't want to let any boys in the group, so CR was a godsend. That same year, our first year in college, we met Fat Amy. She sort of just… burst into our lives and became our lead guitarist, no questions asked."

Beca chuckled, having no trouble visualizing that scenario happening. "And Emily?"

"She's a family friend," said Chloe. "She was a really shy kid when they first moved here so my dad asked me and Aubrey to look out for her. Emily would always watch us practicing and the next thing I knew, she was playing the bass at our next performance." Chloe smiled at the brunette currently tuning her instrument by ear. "She really is the baby of the group. She's only sixteen, which is why a lot of our gigs have to fly under the radar, you know?"

Beca nodded. She appreciated the fact that the band had started with a purpose, and there was something endearing and charming about their different personalities. Judging by the amount of preparation and the availability of equipment, she had no doubt that they were more than just musical dilettantes, but it only magnified her curiosity over what they sounded like together.

"—and then there was you," Chloe finished with a grin.

"Me?" Beca shook her head. "Nah, I'm just the substitute drummer."

Chloe quickly disagreed. "You're part of the band's history now. You're one of us!" Chloe began to chant, "One of us! One of us!" and without being given any context or invitation whatsoever, Fat Amy and Emily joined in and began chanting along with her. "One of us! One of us!"

That is, until Aubrey came downstairs. "Sorry, my conversation ran a little long—what on Earth are you doing?"

"Beca's one of us now!" Emily announced happily.

Aubrey raised an eyebrow. "Okay… Seeing as we're all here: everybody, get in position."

Fat Amy asked for two more minutes as she finished off her last donut, but it was obvious to Beca that this request was regularly unheeded since Emily got into place immediately and Chloe pulled Beca off the couch with her. After she accompanied Beca to the drums, Chloe slipped on her guitar, fished out a pick from her pocket, and stood beside the kit to instruct her.

"So basically the song just goes like… _Ev-'ry-day just do-in' that thing_ ," she sang, strumming the chords slowly and deliberately in time with the lyrics so that Beca could catch on. " _Here's the end-ing and it goes some-thing like this, right here…_ " Chloe finished with an arpeggio and a single strum.

"So that's verse-chorus-verse-chorus-bridge-solo-verse-chorus then out," Aubrey said rapidly, taking her position in front of the microphone. "Everybody got it?"

"Got it," Beca nodded. "Hey, was that the tempo?" she added in an undertone to Chloe, referring to the rate at which the redhead had demonstrated the song.

"Yeah, you think you can handle it?" smirked Chloe.

"CR stayed on the hi-hat for most of it," Emily offered helpfully.

"Did she?" Beca smiled lightly at the suggestion before turning to the lead singer. "So what do you want? Something like, uh..." She tapped her sticks at a moderate eighty-five beats per minute to demonstrate the tempo.

"A little slower."

Beca slowed to sixty-six.

Aubrey shook her head. " _Slower_ , Beca. That's way too fast. Slow down."

"Oh, yeah. Whoa there, Beca," Fat Amy chastised, clearly being sarcastic. "Slow down. This isn't a polka, this is _rock and roll_."

They finally started practice once Beca had brought it down to a languid fifty-eight beats per minute. She stayed on the hi-hat like they were used to and every once in a while Chloe would check up on her and smile at the bored expression Beca was deliberately putting on. She knew not to expect anything crazy upbeat—Aubrey's personality was a reliable predictor of their songs' temperament—but that didn't change the fact that ballads were painfully repetitive. They could just get her to record the drum beat and then loop the tape and her job would be done.

After the song ended, Aubrey was clearly impressed. She turned around and made a triumphant gesture toward Beca. "Perfect!"

"That was awesome, Beca," agreed Emily. "It took CR a week to learn that."

"CR? Who's CR?" Fat Amy jokingly asked. "And does this mean we don't have to spend the whole three hours of practice? I mean, clearly, Beca knows her stuff."

"Hmm." Aubrey seemed hesitant to let them go after just one attempt, even though she had already admitted that it was a perfect run. "Let's try ' _All My Only Dreams'_ next, in case they want an encore."

"Aubrey has high expectations for the band," Chloe informed Beca quietly over Fat Amy's groaning. "She always has us prepare a second performance in case the audience asks for an encore."

"Have they ever?"

"Nope."

"All right, fine, but thirty minute break first," said Fat Amy, cannonballing onto the couch without waiting for permission.

Aubrey sighed in exasperation. "We should at least be productive. Let's decide on the band name now." When utter silence greeted her offer for an exchange of ideas, she made the first suggestion. "How about The Chordvettes? It's a play on the musical ' _chord,'_ as in the chords we play and, well, everyone likes Corvettes."

"It doesn't make sense unless we're sponsored by Chevrolet," countered Fat Amy.

"Also, a corvette is a warship," Beca pointed out indifferently. "So…"

"Ooh, how about Choral Pleasure?" Emily offered excitedly. "Because our singing makes people happy!"

The other four exchanged quick looks. "Pass," they said in unison.

Fat Amy seemed to get into this pattern of thinking and sat up. "If you girls like plays on words, how about The Minstrel Cycles? It's a play on the—"

"Yeah, we get it," Aubrey cut in hurriedly. The rest of the group stared blankly into space as they tried churning out other ideas. "Clearly we're not getting anywhere with these puns, so maybe we should just go as Posen's Roses again for now."

Chloe refocused her eyes and they landed on a stray lock of Beca's chocolate brown hair, which the drummer brushed off of her face carelessly with a drumstick.

Beca caught Chloe looking her way and smirked.

"How about The Bellas?" suggested Chloe, after rolling her eyes at Beca.

Aubrey raised her head excitedly. "As in women's rights activist Bella Abzug?"

"... I think she meant as in Italian for _beautiful_ ," corrected Beca with an amused expression, even though she didn't actually know if that was what Chloe had in mind. Her eyes made contact with Chloe's for a fraction of a second before she quickly aimed them back at the unconvinced Aubrey. "Or, sure, the women's rights thing works, too."

"I don't know… doesn't it seem too _overtly_ feminine?" asked Aubrey, folding her arms across her chest. "I mean, it's a girl's name that means beautiful—how does that support the notion that women are worth more than just their looks?"

"Because what's beautiful about The Bellas doesn't _just_ have to be your looks," defended Beca. "It could be your music, your hearts and souls. Besides, don't you _also_ want to support the notion that women can do anything and _still_ be who they are? That women can be strong _and_ feminine if they want to be, and can have complex emotions and express them through kickass rock and roll music?"

Fat Amy nodded fiercely to each of Beca's challenges, and Chloe stepped forward, having gathered courage from Beca's speech. "No more apologizing for being an all-female band," she gushed. "No more censoring our music to fit the so-called ' _women's sensibilities_ ,' or singing about what is ' _appropriate_ ' for us!"

Chloe's added enthusiasm seemed to have worked on Aubrey and she looked at Emily, receiving an eager nod in confirmation. She looked at Fat Amy and—

"You had me at Italian," she said dreamily. "Also, I'm kind of in the mood for a pizza now. Italian sausage, anyone?"

* * *

Beca drummed her sticks against her thigh as she waited behind the curtain, only half watching the mariachi band on stage. A few overenthusiastic members of the audience had started singing incoherently at the edge of the stage and Beca couldn't help but feel slightly apprehensive that they were following this upbeat, colorful performance with their slow ballad.

"Nervous?" asked a voice behind her.

Beca turned and saw Chloe gesturing at the sticks vibrating in her hand. Chloe was dressed in a sleeveless top, a cropped vest, and a long flowing skirt, along with a headband she wore around her forehead. Beca thought she looked pretty good as a hippie—if not some sort of fashion vampire, as her outfits seemed to turn from modest to mesmerizing as day turned to night.

"Nah. I'm excited actually," Beca answered, turning back to the mariachi. "Those are two different feelings right?"

Chloe laughed. "Have you ever played live before?"

Beca nodded. "In a band back in high school. We played at parties and stuff like this whenever we could. We blew everyone's minds," she reminisced with a faint smile. "It feels really good to be back on a stage, only…"

"What?"

"Nothing."

Chloe glanced behind her to check if Aubrey (who was doing her vocal warm-ups) was safely out of earshot. "The ballad tempo is kind of a step down for you, isn't it?" she asked knowingly.

Beca hesitated before nodding. "But it's a good song. It's a good ballad," she assured.

The audience burst into applause as the mariachi band ended their lively performance. A woman wearing a sparkly dress and a sash that read 'Miss Talent Show' stood by the stage, where she gauged the performances from 'You Stink' to 'Wicked' on a cardboard meter using her arm as a needle. The announcer encouraged the audience to make more noise until the cheers brought Miss Talent Show's arm all the way up to 'Super'—the highest any of the performances had gotten so far.

"All right, ladies and gentlemen, it looks like The Legends of Brass are the ones to beat!" the announcer hollered.

"Yeah, well, 'good' might not cut it tonight. We're gonna need to blow their minds if you want your twenty bucks," Chloe whispered in Beca's ear slyly as she passed her on her way to the center of the stage.

Beca cocked her head and frowned, wondering if Chloe was hinting at what she thought she was hinting at. Beca felt a hand on her shoulder and Aubrey came hurrying past. "Let's go, Beca!"

The mariachi still echoing in her ears, Beca took her seat at the stool and observed the crowd. Many were still reeling from the previous performance, with large smiles on their pink faces. Now that the girls had taken their places on stage, the announcer proclaimed in his smooth tone, "This next group is a local one, from right here in Barden, give it up for… _The Bellas_!"

In the space of a second between Aubrey grasping the microphone and the audience affording them a smattering of polite applause, Chloe turned to Beca and gave her the smallest of winks. Whether it was encouraging or enabling, Beca didn't have time to care. She followed her heart(beat), raised her sticks in the air, and set the tempo with a quick, "One—two—three—four!"

Aubrey immediately whipped around, eyes wide, and shrieked at Beca over the thundering, energetic sound of her beating drums—the entire set this time and not just the hi-hat. " _What are you doing?!_ That's too fast! Slow down!"

Fat Amy and Chloe exchanged surprised looks but the latter jerked her head and began playing the chords, prompting Fat Amy to follow with the melody and forcing Aubrey to quickly get back to her position for her cue.

" _You, doing that thing you do,_

 _Breaking my heart into a million pieces_

 _Like you always do._ "

Aubrey begrudgingly sped up her own singing since Beca wouldn't slow down at all. Fat Amy herself had gotten really into the new tempo and managed to follow along seamlessly. Only poor Emily was still trying to catch up with the bass notes.

" _And you don't mean to be cruel,_

 _You never even knew about the heartache_

 _I've been going through."_

Beca felt a rush as she improvised on the spot, and she shut her eyes to let the music take control, being only semi-conscious not to let her expression get too wild.

" _Well, I try and try to forget you, boy,_

 _But it's just so hard to do_

 _Every time you do that thing you do."_

Chloe and Fat Amy harmonized enthusiastically, reveling in the experience of having the audience actually come up to the edge of the stage and dance wildly to their music. And as the second verse came on, even Aubrey seemed to give up resistance.

" _I know all the games you play,_

 _I'm gonna find a way to let you know that_

 _You'll be mine someday."_

Nearly every person in the auditorium had now come to the dance floor.

"' _Cause we could be happy, can't you see?_

 _If you'd only let me be the one to hold you_

 _And keep you here with me."_

Chloe shifted around her microphone stand and gave Beca a huge smile through her harmonizing. Beca grinned back cheekily and transitioned to the chorus.

"' _Cause I try and try to forget you, boy,_

 _But it's just so hard to do_

 _Every time you do that thing you do."_

Fat Amy walked over to Beca as Aubrey took care of the bridge and Chloe and Emily the harmonizing.

" _I don't ask a lot, boy—"_

"What's going on here?" she yelled at the drummer in disbelief, motioning at the audience jumping up and down to their music.

" _But I know one thing's for sure—_ "

Beca shrugged impishly and Chloe yelled at them both, "This is awesome!"

" _It's the love I haven't got, boy—"_

"You are one lucky twig!" Fat Amy shook her head amusedly and returned to center stage for her solo.

" _And I just can't take it anymore!"_

While Fat Amy wooed the crowd with her solo, Aubrey used the opportunity to turn back to Beca and send her a murderous glare. Beca tried and obviously failed to look innocent; it was hard not to smile with an audience going crazy with their approval.

"' _Cause we could be happy, can't you see?_

 _If you'd only let me be the one to hold you_

 _And keep you here with me."_

As they entered the final chorus, Emily gained confidence when someone cheered her on from the sidelines. She gave an exhilarated laugh started bobbing to the music as well.

"' _Cause it hurts me so just to see you go_

 _Around with someone new,_

 _And if I know you, you're doing that thing,_

 _Every day just doing that thing,_

 _And I can't take you doing that thing you do."_

The audience erupted in applause at the final cymbal crash, and the announcer couldn't wait to get on stage and grab the microphone from Aubrey. "Oh! My! Goodness!" he yelled over the cheers. Miss Talent Show enthusiastically thrust her arm multiple times toward the extreme end of the meter. "That's a 'Wicked', ladies and gentlemen—The Bellas are clearly the winners!"

Miss Talent Show handed the small trophy to the Bella nearest to her, and in her excitement Emily hopped up and down. The weight of her bass guitar bouncing broke the strap and the instrument fell to the floor with a loud clunk.

Before the girls could even get off the stage, a man in a deep blue suit crying, "That was great! That was great!" climbed up the steps and rounded up Aubrey and the two guitarists. "Listen," he said excitedly, "I want you girls to play at my restaurant—you ever heard of Hanks' Shanks?"

"The meat place down by the airport, yes," Fat Amy answered automatically.

"I gotta have you play tomorrow night! What do you say? I'll pay you a hundred bucks."

Aubrey exchanged looks with Chloe. "Could you give us a second?" she asked politely and dragged the girls back toward Beca and the drum set. "What do you think? He seemed really eager—should we ask for more money? A contract?"

"I think we should just accept," shrugged Chloe. "The exposure will be good for us in the long run."

"Girls, girls," shushed Fat Amy, "let _me_ handle the negotiations." The Australian strutted toward the restaurant owner and looked him up and down intimidatingly. "Is there any way you can pay us in steaks—?"

"We accept," Aubrey cut in quickly.

* * *

If Beca thought the night would end on a high note, she was sorely mistaken, for the moment Fat Amy shut the door to her van with all their instruments safely inside, Aubrey rounded on her.

"What the hell, Beca?" she demanded. "Were you _trying_ to screw us up?"

"What are you talking about? You guys did great out there!" said Beca, bewildered. "It was way better than if you'd have gone with the ballad tempo—"

"In case you live somewhere outside reality, this isn't _The Beca Show_ ," snarled Aubrey. "It's not up to you to decide what we do and _how fast_ we do it. I explicitly told you to _slow down_."

"Bree, it's fine," Chloe said calmly. "We were able to catch up and we _did_ sound great, you have to admit that."

Aubrey raised a challenging eyebrow at Chloe and turned to the youngest member of the band. "Emily? What did you think?"

The bassist seemed terrified to be asked such a loaded question. "Um, well… I guess it sort of took me a little by surprise."

"A _lot_ by surprise," corrected Aubrey, which left Emily wondering whether she had just been insulted or not. "Well, not really," she mumbled in quiet defense.

"Look, you're all just overreacting to this," said Fat Amy, speaking for the first time since the argument began. "Yes, Aubrey's right in that it could have been a huge disaster if we didn't pick up on the tempo. So this is for you—" Fat Amy smacked Beca lightly on the back of her head. "But also, it _wasn't_ a huge disaster, and we may not have even won if not for Beca so _this_ —" it was Aubrey's turn to get smacked "—is yours. There. Are we all happy now?"

Aubrey didn't look like she was; if anything, Fat Amy's ruffling of her neat bun made her angrier. So Beca stepped up and apologized…in her own way.

"Look, I'm sorry for changing the tempo at the last second," she said. "I should have asked the group the moment I knew we weren't going to beat that _mariachi_ band if you were okay with it. And when you inevitably said 'no, Beca, the _slow_ beat is the right way to _pump_ these people up,' I still should have respected that."

Her eyes met Chloe's and she struggled to keep a straight face after seeing the redhead stifle a giggle. Aubrey narrowed her eyes at Beca's 'apology' and didn't miss the exchange between the two. She turned to face Chloe, who immediately adjusted her features into a pleading smile. "Bree," she said softly. "Come on… this is a happy moment."

Aubrey stared at her for a long beat. The two seemed to be having their own silent conversation before Aubrey declared, "You found her, so she's _your_ responsibility. I don't want any surprises at tomorrow's performance, okay?"

Chloe nodded seriously. Aubrey took one last disapproving look at Beca, rolled her eyes, and walked toward the front of Fat Amy's van. "I can't wait 'til CR's arm heals," she grumbled.

"Again, _who_ is this CR person you speak of?" said Fat Amy, throwing Beca a wink before getting into the driver's seat.

* * *

The street was dead silent when they arrived at Aubrey's house half an hour later. They had decided to leave their own cars in the driveway and take Fat Amy's van, which they were now unloading, to the talent show on the other side of town. Once it was empty, Aubrey addressed the group and announced that practice would begin at three in the afternoon the next day.

"Don't be late!" she said as a final note. After everybody murmured in assent, she turned to her best friend. "Chloe? Can I have a word inside?"

Chloe dusted her hands and nodded. Laying the floor tom down on the driveway, Beca watched Aubrey and Chloe go through the side door to the Posens' kitchen. "Hey, Amy—" she began.

"Fat Amy."

"Fat Amy. Any idea what that was about?"

"Oh, you mean the 'can I have a word' thing?" Fat Amy brushed it off. "That's just the way Aubrey talks. You get used to it after a while—just try to think of her as a forty-year-old trapped in the body of a woman half her age."

"No, I meant… Never mind."

"Well, if that's it," Fat Amy yawned widely, "I'll see you twigs tomorrow. Good night—and, hey, Beca, thank you," she added sincerely. "That was the _most_ fun I've ever had at a Barden University Class of '69 End of Term Talent Show."

"No problem," nodded Beca, unsurprised by that statement.

"And don't worry about Aubrey," the guitarist advised, climbing into her van. "She'll come around."

"Yeah..." Beca noticed their equipment still lying around the driveway. "Hey, aren't we going to take this stuff to the basement first?" she yelled over van's engine starting.

"Thanks so much for offering, Becs! You're a treasure!" Fat Amy waved out the window as she drove away.

Beca shook her head and turned to see Emily already lugging the bass drum under one arm and the snare in the other.

"Here, let me help you with that."

Emily smiled brightly. "Thanks, Beca."

On their way to the basement, Beca discreetly peeked inside the kitchen and caught only a glimpse of Aubrey and Chloe. Aubrey's back was turned but Beca could tell that she had her arms crossed, while Chloe's expression hovered somewhere between guilty and defiant. Beca wondered if they were arguing about her.

"Listen, Emily, I really am sorry for springing that up-tempo on you," Beca said sincerely. "It wasn't cool of me to take matters into my own hands."

Emily shook her head. "It's all right, Beca. Sure it was scary at first but… I mean, I never had to think on my feet before," she said. "Aubrey is always so _prepared_ and organized that we never had something like this happen. It was scary," she repeated, "but in an exciting kind of way."

Once everything had been transferred to Aubrey's basement, the two brunettes stretched their arms out and yawned.

"Do you need a ride home?"

"Chloe's taking me, but thanks for offering," smiled Emily.

"Right…" Beca's thoughts were once again brought to the redhead upstairs. "Do you have any idea how long their talks usually take? Is this like a 'what do you think of my new skirt' kind of talk, or is it more like a full on, junior high, sleepover gossip session?"

Emily giggled and shook her head apologetically. "Sorry, I don't know. Why? Do you need to talk to Aubrey about something?"

Beca rushed to come up with an excuse for hanging back. "No, I just—it's getting late and you've got to go home…"

Emily rolled her eyes. "I'm sixteen, Beca, not _six._ "

"Well, you had me fooled," came Chloe's voice from above the stairs. "Come on, Em, it's time to get you tucked in."

Beca followed a scowling Emily to the stairs and looked up at Chloe. She wasn't sure if it was her imagination playing tricks, but Chloe seemed… weary. And not the kind that came from physical exhaustion.

"Are you okay?" Beca asked as they came together at the top of the stairs.

"Yeah, just tired," Chloe answered with a sigh. "Aubrey asked me to say good night. We'll be seeing each other soon anyway so…"

"Yeah. Okay. See you tomorrow then," Beca said awkwardly.

Chloe bid her good night, and so did Emily. They all walked to their cars and, for some reason, Beca was a little disoriented that Chloe—the 'hugger'—hadn't given her a warmer farewell. So maybe there were some things about Chloe Beale that had to be listed in pencil first.

* * *

 **Response to reviews:**

 **Electronis Zappa** (May 4) - Yay, more love for TTYD! Thanks for reading!

 **Psychic Guest** (May 4) - So, we meet again, my old friend. I'm afraid you are at an advantage this time around, since the film is 20 years old and you can (almost!) predict every plot point if you do end up watching it. But I tried giving it my own twist so... let's see how it goes. I was actually nervous about writing drummer!Beca; I haven't touched a drum set since high school so I worry about getting the 'feelings' down right. As for Staubrey, I'd say that, at this moment, they have a 0-10% chance. :( I don't want to stray too far from TTYD's essence, but there also might (might!) be a place for them somewhere. It's undecided. Thanks for reading!

 **Rogue Amazon Boo** (May 4) - Who wouldn't? I've been listening to it nonstop since seeing the movie the other day. Thanks for checking this out, I hope it unfolds to your liking.

 **Guest** (May 5) - Here you go! :) Thanks for reading!

 **Guest** (May 5) - Thank you! I hope the changes continue to be subtle; I want to stay true to the movie. :) Thanks again for reading!

* * *

 **Credit:** "Choral Pleasure" is an actual a cappella group from the State University of New York (SUNY) Purchase. I am not associated with the group or the institution in any way.


	3. Chapter Three

**CHAPTER THREE**

Beca made her way to Aubrey's house the next day after another uneventful shift at the bookstore. Her father wasn't happy that she had asked to leave early on the store's "busiest" day but Beca had also pointed out the unlikelihood of bookworms causing too much of a fuss in their place of worship. Moreover, Beca knew—thanks to his unsubtle and unceasing remarks about it—that her father was actually glad that she had found herself a "respectable" group of friends at Barden. Despite it encouraging her drumming, he believed that exposure to the girls could open her mind to the idea of attending the local university like they did.

Unfortunately for him, however, Beca's mind was 'opening' in the opposite direction; playing for The Bellas only deepened her desire to take music more seriously as a profession, and she couldn't wait to get back to Portland at the end of the summer to make that dream a reality with her old band.

After pulling into the side of the street and getting out of her car, Beca was spared another surprise greeting from Aubrey's mother and was instead instructed by the woman to go around the back. From the looks of Mrs. Posen's neat bun and rubber gloves, the house was about to undergo some major scrubbing and cleaning.

As Beca approached the corner of the lot, an unfamiliar convertible pulled up just behind hers and, from her conveniently hidden spot behind Fat Amy's van, Beca saw Chloe with the young man she was with at Luke's studio the night they first met. Chloe was leaning over from the passenger's seat, cupping his face with her hands. Beca didn't need to see any more to know what was happening, and she turned away quickly to rid herself of the unclean feeling of watching her friend having a private moment from behind Fat Amy's grimy van.

Beca proceeded through the back door as instructed and, at the top of the basement stairs, could already hear Fat Amy and Aubrey warming up to an argument. Amy was strumming experimentally on her guitar while Aubrey set up the microphones.

"Why don't we go, C—A—D-minor?"

"No. Do it the way you just played it."

"Yeah, but why don't we hook it in A—?"

"No!" Aubrey looked scandalized. "No, the minor chord…"

Beca tuned them out and walked over to Emily practicing her scales on the couch, far away from the fighting. "Are they always like this?" she asked, jerking her head in the direction of the two blondes.

Emily looked up and smiled. "It's tough when you're in a group with… a lot of strong personalities. You should have seen them with CR. There was never a dull moment."

Beca smiled lightly, wondering indeed what it was like with Cynthia Rose as their drummer. She had no doubt that CR performed her job well, but Beca could tell that they were miles apart in skill and it made her uncomfortable. Beca didn't want to cause an awkward strain on the established friendship among the girls when it came to the band's future.

Chloe came bounding down the basement stairs not long after Beca, cheerfully singing, "I brought sandwiches!" just as Fat Amy finally reached boiling point ("But why don't you just _listen_ to it in A?!"). Beca accepted the napkin-wrapped sandwich and, sensing an opportunity, made a show of peeking inside.

She lowered her hands and said in a low voice, "Chloe… is this a steak sandwich?"

"Yeah. Why?"

Beca clenched her jaw and dropped the sandwich purposely on the table.

"What is it?" Chloe asked, worry creeping over her face when Beca sighed heavily.

"A steak sandwich?" said Beca through gritted teeth. Inwardly, however, she was enjoying the look on Chloe's face as the redhead realized her 'mistake'.

"Oh, my gosh, I'm so sorry! I didn't know you were vegan! Hold on, let me run upstairs real quick and I'll find you something else—" Chloe froze on her way to do just that. With one hand on the staircase railing, she turned around slowly to face Beca's smirk. "This is payback for the car thing, isn't it?"

Beca nodded proudly. Emily, who had been watching the exchange, giggled. "She got you good, Chlo."

Chloe rolled her eyes and punched Beca lightly on the shoulder. "Yeah, well, she wouldn't have if she didn't look so much the part."

Beca raised her eyebrows, wondering what screamed 'vegan' about her. Looking down at her outfit, she made a guess. "What, is it the turtleneck?"

Before Chloe could respond with a clever insult to her fashion choices, Fat Amy finally walked away from her argument with Aubrey, toward the smell of food, which brought the singer's attention to the completeness of their group.

"Good, we're all here. We can begin rehearsals," she said. "So today we'll start off with 'All My Only Dreams' then—"

Fat Amy groaned. "Why are we still bothering with that song? People hate it."

"Correction: one crowd hated it that one time," defended Aubrey. "And they were just a bunch of sexist jerks who didn't want to see an all-female band on stage."

Fat Amy frowned thoughtfully, trying to recall that evening. "No, I think it was the song that turned them off…"

"They called us dykes and told us to go back to knitting!"

"Cross-stitching," corrected Emily.

"Whatever!"

"Yeah, but they also said our music was boring and put them to sleep," Fat Amy pointed out.

Aubrey crossed her arms. "Chloe?"

They all turned to the redhead, who avoided eye contact as she fiddled with her guitar strap, for her opinion to settle the argument.

"Um," she began carefully, "Aubrey's right. We've only gotten negative feedback from it once. Maybe it works better with a different crowd. Besides, we've still got ' _That Thing You Do_ ' in case—"

"Then it's settled," Aubrey declared with an air of victory. "We'll start the show with ' _All My Only Dreams_.'"

On her way to the drum stool, Beca shook her head at Fat Amy's silent request for her to say something. As the band's substitute drummer, she felt she didn't have the right to—especially not after the previous night's fight. Her job was to simply fill in for Cynthia Rose; she had no stake in the band.

In any case, Beca knew it was going to be different this time around. They weren't out to compete against other bands and they already had a relative hit under their belts; there was a lot less pressure to impress.

Satisfied by the absence of further comment, Aubrey called for attention. "Get in position, girls. Ready? On my count—and a-one, two, three, four…"

* * *

 _"And when I close my eyes,_

 _You'll be right by my side."_

As they approached the end of a song that she could not believe was even slower than the first Bellas ballad she'd learned, Beca shook herself out of a dull stupor and looked around the restaurant. As "boring" as the song was, it was actually well received; old and young couples alike took to the dance floor and got cozy with a slow dance while those who weren't into the ballad had good food and conversation to hold their attention.

 _"If I could have just one request,_

 _Stay with me, boy, I confess,_

 _All my only dreams."_

A respectable amount of applause greeted the end of the song, muffled slightly by the sound of an airplane flying overhead. Beca stretched her arms to loosen her muscles when someone at the back of the restaurant yelled out, "Hey, when are you going to play that catchy dance song?"

The girls exchanged looks—relieved that it wasn't a heckler—but didn't respond immediately, which prompted the same guy to explain his predicament. "We heard The Bellas were going to play tonight so we came here to meet girls and dance—and we can't meet girls until we dance!"

That was enough encouragement for the Bellas to shift gears. Aubrey made a quick check to see if everyone was ready before giving the okay.

"Let's crush it, girls," Fat Amy winked at the others, before grabbing her microphone and giving a shout-out. "All right, here's one for the kid in the back!"

Beca raised her sticks in the air and brought them crashing down with the bass.

* * *

The Bellas—minus Fat Amy—were sitting around a square table at closing time, enjoying their complimentary wings and pizza and talking about how well the night had gone. It was a rare occasion, and they were savoring it.

"And did you see that sweet old couple dancing together during 'All My Only Dreams'?" gushed Chloe, hands on her chest as she swayed. "They were adorable!"

Emily fervently agreed. "Didn't they seem like soul mates? I hope I meet someone, fall in love, and be together forever!" she said dreamily.

"I'm sure you will, Em," said Chloe, pausing to taking a sip of her soda, "but for the record, you're still too young to be thinking about any of that."

"Speaking of growing old," Beca segued as nonchalantly as she could, "don't you guys ever invite, I don't know, dates to watch your shows?" She emphasized the word in a way that it could be interpreted in many ways. "This gig seems like a pretty big deal by your standards."

Aubrey shot her a dirty look that Emily missed as she sighed and rested her elbows on the table. "Chloe's the only one with a real boyfriend," she said wistfully. "Fat Amy has… I don't really understand what she has with all those guys—"

"As well you shouldn't," interjected Aubrey. "But to for future reference, Beca, we don't really encourage Tom to watch our shows. Chloe's father doesn't approve of us playing in seedy bars, which means neither does Tom."

"So why don't you just stop playing at seedy bars?" frowned Beca.

"Like I'm going to let the men in my life tell me what to do?" Chloe jutted her chest out stubbornly. "Besides, half our gigs are at bars; they're the only places that aren't so upscale they won't hire unknown bands. And it's not always dangerous."

"But seeing as we have a minor in our group," Aubrey gestured at Emily, "we've had to keep things under wraps or else we're over. So I'm sure you'll understand why we'd prefer it if you didn't invite a boyfriend—"

"Boyfriend! Beca's only been in town for two weeks!" exclaimed Emily. "She can't already have a boyfriend… right?" She quickly turned to Beca for confirmation. "If you do, can you tell me your secret?"

Beca raised her eyebrows in amusement. "Uh, no—no boyfriend…" She thought she saw Chloe hide a smile behind her glass. "So your secret's safe with me at least."

Fat Amy returned from the bar and plopped down on the empty chair beside Emily, waving a fan of dollar bills in front of their faces. "Check out these presidential flashcards!" she said happily. "Mr. Hanks gave us a bonus and he wants us to be regulars!"

"Regulars?" asked Emily.

"Apparently the word's out on The Bellas. People were actually calling their friends to come down and see our second set tonight!" she said. "We're gonna get to play our music here and in exchange he gets more customers—it's a win-win!"

Amid their congratulatory toasts, the guy who had urged them to play 'That Thing You Do' approached their table. "Sorry to interrupt, ladies," he said, "but I just wanted to say that I love your song and I love your music. Where I can get the record?"

Aubrey gave him a polite, "We'll let you know," reply before Mr. Hanks ushered him out on account of closing time. When they were out of earshot she turned to Chloe excitedly. "Did you hear that, Chlo? He loved our music! A guy loved our music! We're changing the world!"

Fat Amy calmed them down through their girlish squeals. "Okay, okay! But what do you girls think? Should we make a record?"

Emily's eyes widened. "Make a r-record? Like, an actual record? A record record?"

"No, I clearly meant 'airplane' when I said the word record," deadpanned Fat Amy. "We should make an airplane so we can fly you to wherever sea otters live and you can finally be with your kind—yes, a record!" She turned to the others. "We could sell copies of them here for a dollar apiece and make a fortune!"

"There's a sound booth a couple of miles outside Barden we could go to," suggested Aubrey, obviously having planned this for a while.

Emily's face fell. "It's out of town?"

Beca and Chloe exchanged looks during their synchronized light bulb moment. "Luke's!" they said in unison.

"Luke has recording equipment in the studio behind his store," explained Chloe. "I'm sure he'll let us record there for a small fee."

Beca nodded. "He's only been asked to record church music and sermons. He'll be glad to have us liven the place up."

It didn't take much to convince the rest of the band to bring their patronage to Luke. Butterflies filled each of their stomachs as they made their ways home. The Bellas' first 'booked' performance went spectacularly well and had even sparked interest in an actual record—either their luck had turned or someone had turned it for them.

* * *

The Bellas brought their A-game to Luke's small recording studio the next day. Aubrey rested her voice and drank nothing but ginger ale the entire morning to keep her vocals pristine; Fat Amy sharpened her solo; Beca and Chloe helped round out Emily's bass arrangement, and Beca did the same to her drumming. They were pulling all the stops to make their first commercial record absolutely perfect and had even asked Luke to provide the background handclaps to enrich their sound during the recording itself.

After the last note of the song faded out naturally, Luke gave them the thumbs up. "That was great, girls," he grinned, moving his headphones down around his neck. "Good session. I could probably have your record by next Wednesday—"

"Wait, what about _'All My Only Dreams_ '?" asked Aubrey, noticing everyone getting ready to pack up and leave.

Luke shook his head apologetically. "Sorry, I only have time for the one song. I've got to record this children's choir next—"

"But what about the B-side of the record?" Aubrey asked indignantly. "We need to fill the B-side! Come on, Luke, we can do it in one take." When everyone continued leaving, Aubrey stamped her foot and protested loudly. "Just one take! I mean, honestly, where do kids have to be on a Sunday afternoon that they can't wait a couple of minutes?"

The other Bellas froze at Aubrey's outburst and waited apprehensively for Luke's reaction. Thankfully, the laid-back Brit merely shrugged in compliance, but he added, "You know, Aubrey, you'd actually be quite attractive if you weren't so bossy."

* * *

The weekend turnout at Hanks' Shanks had nearly doubled just a week after the Bellas' first performance at the restaurant, which was great news for their record sales. Early in the evening, most patrons were dining and conversing casually, and after they had finished setting up their instruments, the girls were allowed to mingle with them until their set.

Beca was on her way to use the bathroom when a young man in a bright red sweater approached her eagerly. "Hey, you're the drummer of the Bellas, right?"

Beca nodded indifferently.

"That's cool," he grinned. "I think girls playing instruments are hot."

Beca was about to pointedly reply that she thought so, too, when she felt a soft hand coil around her upper arm. "There you are!" Chloe said breathlessly. "Come on, we have to get ready for the show."

"Heeey, Chloe," the boy greeted playfully. "I see Tom's not around tonight. Don't tell me you're sneaking off behind his back? I'd hate to have to give him the bad news," he teased.

"Oh, Johnny," she smiled sweetly. "If I were, you'd still be the last to figure it out. Come on," she repeated to Beca, dragging her toward the bathroom. "Take off your shirt," she demanded once she had shut the door behind them.

"Excuse me?"

Chloe pulled out a white collarless blouse similar to the one she was wearing from somewhere behind her and handed it to Beca. "Put that on."

Beca winced. "Matching outfits? Really?"

"Hey, the Bellas are getting popular around town as a legitimate band," the redhead argued, checking herself out in the mirror. "We should start marketing ourselves as having our own style—and before you ask; monochrome turtlenecks are not in style."

Beca reluctantly got into a stall to change shirts. After a minute or two of fussing around, she groaned. "Ugh! I can't wear this!"

"Let me see!"

Beca stepped out and flapped her arms around. "It's too restrictive; I won't be able to play!"

"Oh, relax, you big whiner," said Chloe, biting her lip in concentration as she scrutinize Beca's outfit. "I got it. Here—" She grabbed onto the fabric near Beca's shoulder and forcibly pulled it down, tearing off the sleeve. She did the same to the other side. "Better?"

Beca rubbed her arms. "Now I'm cold," she pouted.

Chloe rolled her eyes playfully and snatched the dark turtleneck from Beca's hands, intending to store it in her bag. She cocked her head to the side curiously and held the garment against Beca's body. "Actually…" she muttered, "this could work… Wear the sweater underneath."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. It'll make you different from the rest of us who have to stand throughout the entire set."

"Hey! My arms work a million times harder than yours do," countered Beca. They continued their banter until they reached backstage, where Emily was gushing over their matching outfits and Aubrey and Fat Amy were doing their respective pre-performance rituals of vocal warm-ups and face-stuffing, respectively.

* * *

 _"With them, I feel like I'm wasting my time_

 _When you make me feel like I'm losing my mind,_

 _Little wild one,_

 _My little wild one."_

The Bellas had begun their set with a few of the band's lesser known songs to build up anticipation for their hit so that when they finally played 'That Thing You Do,' the space in front of the stage was packed with fans. The Bellas ended the night by debuting a new, up-tempo song that Chloe had written called 'Little Wild One,' which succeeded in garnering a generous round of applause.

" _Oh, I love my boy fine,_

 _But when I need a wild time,_

 _Little wild one, I'll come back,_

 _Little wild one, I'll come back,_

 _Little wild one, I'll come back to you."_

Unfortunately, not everyone was as appreciative, and news of the band's popularity had reached less welcoming ears. A group of unruly men had gone to Hanks' Shanks for the sole purpose of heckling and provoking The Bellas and their followers. They were likely the same hecklers as before, now bitter about the all-girl group's apparent success.

"Boo!"

"Your music sucks!"

"Leave rock and roll to the men!"

Aubrey, recognizing the symptoms of trouble, quickly motioned The Bellas to get off the stage. But Beca, who had never been inexplicably heckled this badly before (or, for that matter, played for a crowd this large before) remained rooted on the spot in utter surprise.

"Come on, Beca," Chloe said softly, guiding her out of the stool.

As she rose, Beca witnessed a man coming up to one of the hecklers, saying, "Hey, buddy, show some respect. We came here to listen to music we like, but if you're not feeling it, the door's right there."

"Did your girlfriend tell you to say that?" jeered the heckler. "No self-respecting man would be into this girly crap—"

The tension grew thicker as more people came to join in the argument on both sides. Beca could feel their patience wearing thin but before things got physical, a cloud of white substance was suddenly released from somewhere in the crowd, causing a mild panic among the people surrounding the area.

Someone had set off a fire extinguisher as a joke. With emotions already running high, the added panic set off the full on brawl that erupted in the middle of the restaurant.

"Fantastic," groaned Aubrey. Hoping to avoid another Cynthia Rose incident, she immediately turned to her band mate. "Fat Amy, don't you dare—!"

But the excitable Australian was already emulating Moses and parting the sea of people on her way to the thick of the fight.

"Oh, no! The records!" Emily pointed to the table Mr. Hanks had set up to help them sell their records. A few people had grabbed handfuls and started flinging them like Frisbees at unsuspecting people. Aubrey's nostrils flared as she looked between Fat Amy and their records, struggling to make the decision.

"You guys save the records," offered Beca helpfully. "I'll get Fat Amy."

Aubrey nodded her thanks and took Emily by the hand. "Come on, Em. Chloe, let's go!"

"But Beca—" To Chloe's dismay, however, the tiny drummer had already disappeared into the riot. From her place atop the stage, she saw Fat Amy wrestling a man to the ground and traced a path back to find Beca squeezing herself between two pairs of catfighting women.

Chloe jumped off the stage and started pushing her way closer to the center when a sharp whistle blew from somewhere near the entrance. The riot police had been called.

"Oh, shoot! I can't afford another violation!" yelped a man behind Chloe, before shoving her to the side on his way toward the exit.

His attempted escape—combined with the rest of the crowd's—caught Chloe by surprise and she somehow ended up on the floor of the restaurant, covering her head with her arms as people stampeded out. She lay there, worrying about how a tiny person like Beca could possibly survive this in one piece when she was barely holding it together herself.

" _Beca!_ "

Just a few yards away, Beca spun around. She had been trying to pull a guy off Fat Amy's back when she heard Chloe's strangled cry, like a blade piercing through cloth. Her eyes zeroed in on a segment in the line of people scrambling toward the exit that seemed to be avoiding something on the ground—

" _Chloe!_ "

Hearing Beca's worried yell finally snapped Fat Amy out of her bloodthirstiness and she gave up fighting to answer the distress call. Grabbing hold of Beca, she forged a path for them to get to Chloe. As they both knelt down beside her prone figure, she gasped in panic, "Ginger, please—talk to me!"

Chloe raised her head at once, looking alarmed and disheveled but otherwise completely fine. "You're okay!"

"Of course I'm okay, Chloe! I told you I can handle myself at these things," scolded Fat Amy, pulling her up and dragging both Chloe and Beca to the fire exit.

"I was actually talking to—"

"You should have gone with Aubrey. You could have been caught—"

"You could have been seriously hurt!" cried Beca, indignantly pointing out the much worse scenario.

"So could you!" said Chloe, rounding on the brunette once they were outside, where people were running in all directions away from the restaurant. "Beca, no offense but you're half these guys' sizes! You can't just go running into a crowd of them like that!"

Beca blinked. She was surprised to have found Chloe alone on the floor since Aubrey had already given her instruction to leave, but she finally put the pieces together. "Wait, so… you came back inside for me?"

Chloe looked away in embarrassment. "I never left," she admitted. "Because I knew what was going to happen and… well, of course I wouldn't leave without you. You're one of us now, remember?"

"Yeah, you color-coordinated outfits with us," Fat Amy pointed out. "I don't know about you, but that seals the deal in my book."

With her breathing finally slowing down, Beca looked between Chloe and Fat Amy and gave the two a grateful smile. A warm feeling grew in her chest and spread to her cheeks and ears, as it only then sunk in that she was a part of something more than just a band, and she was more than just their substitute drummer.


	4. Chapter Four

**CHAPTER FOUR**

"… 'the damages included broken tables, chairs, glasses, and two fire extinguishers were stolen,'" Mr. Mitchell angrily read aloud from the newspaper stand by the cash register. "Jesus, Beca! Be grateful they didn't—oh, wait, there it is: 'The riots began after rowdy fans of up-and-coming local female music group _The Bellas_ —' is it too much to ask for you to stay out of trouble, Beca?" He refolded the newspaper and glared at his daughter. "You've been here all of three weeks…"

"Francis, relax," Sheila soothed, fanning herself with one of the magazines. "Beca's not in any trouble. They didn't name any of them—"

"But they know 'The Bellas' were there!" argued Mr. Mitchell. "It's not that difficult for word to spread about who makes up that group, you know." He turned to his daughter, who was arranging books while trying desperately hard not to roll her eyes at every word that came out of her father's grumbling mouth. "I worry what kind of words Attorney Beale is going to have about you now."

"Probably not as harsh as the ones he has for his _own_ daughter," Beca answered back flippantly.

Beca wasn't the only one on the receiving end of paternal disappointment. Chloe hadn't escaped her father's fury, as Beca had learned from the other Bellas earlier that day, and was, according to them, "detained in her room until further notice."

Fat Amy had suggested they bust her out, but Emily was already on thin ice with her own parents after telling them that she _technically_ wasn't _in_ the bar at the time the riot police came, but was simply at a restaurant with her friends. Aubrey had come off surprisingly unscathed, though she still worried about staining The Bellas' town-wide reputation now that they had two riots under their belt.

Before Mr. Mitchell could come up with a scolding retort, the bookstore bell dinged and a tall, slender woman entered haltingly. At first glance, Beca could already tell that this woman came from out of town.

 _Way_ out of town.

The visitor was dressed in shiny leather pants, a tight blouse with nearly a third of the buttons undone, and heels under which small kittens could probably take shelter. But what convinced Beca was the fact that the woman kept her head wrapped in a scarf, had an almost threateningly large purse, and wore sunglasses _indoors_ —a look that clearly screamed, "I don't want to be seen in this town."

Mr. Mitchell took one look at the woman, cleared his throat awkwardly, and elbowed Beca to take this customer.

"Uh, can I help you?" Beca asked from a good six paces away to avoid the embarrassment of having to look up at the tall woman like a child.

The woman took off her sunglasses and flashed Beca a smile. She was a lot younger than Beca had expected; her grayish-green eyes still sparkled with youth. "As a matter of fact, you can, although I'm not looking for a book."

Beca raised an eyebrow and bit back her sarcastic reply. "So… a magazine? Greeting cards?"

"No, no, I'm looking for…" The woman pursed her pink lips thoughtfully before holding out her hand. "My name's Stacie Conrad."

Beca eyed the hand cautiously and shook it, saying, "Hi, Stacie Conrad. I'm Beca Mitchell."

"Of The Bellas, right?"

Beca narrowed her eyes. "Are you a reporter or something?"

"I'm a promoter," said Stacie. "I was wondering if there was any way you and I and… the rest of The Bellas… could talk? Today? Preferably in the next five minutes?"

After a few calls and some protesting from her father, Beca had managed to round up the Bellas (sans Chloe), though in a much longer time than Stacie Conrad had desired. Mr. Mitchell had absolutely refused to have them loiter in the general store area, in fear of customers thinking The Bellas were riot-magnets, so they were cramped in the bookstore's dusty old stockroom.

Beca noticed with curiosity that Stacie had replaced her sunglasses and tightened the scarf around her head once the girls arrived before she took a cautious seat on top of one of the boxes of donated books. Aubrey sat on the edge of a tiny bookshelf while Fat Amy took the only other sturdy box in the room and planted Emily onto her thigh so that Beca could fit through the door.

"So, uh, girls, this is Stacie Conrad," Beca introduced uncomfortably from her position between Fat Amy and the door. "She said she's a promoter and wants to talk to us."

"Yes, that's right," said Stacie, in a new, lofty, and almost-British voice that surprised Beca. She pulled out a slip of paper from her giant purse and passed it to Aubrey. "I've been following The Bellas closely and, listen, I don't want to waste any more of your time so let me just spit it out—"

Fat Amy raised her hand in interest. "Hang on, there—are you from down under?"

"I—sure, if that's… what I sound like," stammered Stacie, changing her accent so drastically that even Aubrey had to pause from reading and frown.

"Nah, now you sound kiwi," said Fat Amy, leaning forward suspiciously.

Beca finally intervened before Fat Amy brought Emily tumbling into the mess of books. "She's obviously faking her accent! Look, lady, what the hell is going on? Who are you?"

The woman sighed dramatically. "Okay, listen," she began in her normal accent, "no matter what, all I want you to understand is that I can make The Bellas _successful,_ and I can make all of you _famous_ —that's all you should care about."

"What do you mean, 'no matter what'?" Aubrey said suspiciously.

Stacie bit her lip and hesitantly pulled down her oversized sunglasses. Beca did not expect the sound that came out of Aubrey's mouth, nor did she think the blonde was capable of making it. It was somewhere between a yelp of shock and choking on air.

" _Ana?!_ "

Stacie winced as she let her dark blonde hair fall out of the scarf. "Hello, Aubrey."

The other three women in the room were eagerly expecting Aubrey to begin speaking immediately—and loudly—to explain her outburst but, surprisingly, the singer had clammed up after that simple greeting.

"So… you two know each other?" Beca ventured slowly when the silence only continued awkwardly.

"We went to the same high school," admitted Stacie, looking like a culprit caught in the act.

" _This girl_ was in Catholic school?" Fat Amy gestured all around Stacie's immodestly exposed chest. " _This_ girl?"

"I was different then!" Stacie cried, swatting away Fat Amy's hand and covering her chest. "People knew me as _Ana_ and I was a brunette—"

" _Oh_ , I see," Fat Amy nodded sympathetically. "Were you also chubby and ate your lunch alone in the bathroom stalls?"

" _Tch-hah!_ " was only the second intelligible sound to come of out Aubrey since the big reveal. All heads turned to her. "You were—she had _no problem_ —wait, what am I doing? No!" Aubrey stood up angrily and in her haste banged her head on the low, sloped ceiling.

Quickly recovering from that, she pointed a damning finger at Stacie. "What makes you think I trust you with my band? Especially since—"

"Wait, what's going on with the band?" asked Emily.

"She wants to be our manager," explained Aubrey, handing the paper over to Beca, whom she admittedly thought was the most mature of her three band mates present. "She wants to get in on our success—not to mention our profits."

"Profits from shows that I would be contractually obligated to make possible!" argued Stacie. "Did you even _read_ it? It's a standard management contract—"

"How exactly are you going to get us all these shows?" asked Beca. She knew from experience that it was an easy promise to make but hard to follow through on. "By hitting up every other restaurant from here to the airport?"

"Restaurant? Oh, no, no, no." Stacie wagged her finger. "I'm talking _rock and roll_ shows, baby! Sold out venues across the _state_ —and more!"

"Before you get all excited," Aubrey warned them, silencing their murmurs, "consider the source! This woman tried _—_ poorly, I might add—to _lie_ to us about who she was. How do we know she's not _lying_ to us now?"

Stacie sighed. "I'll give you that but you have to understand, Aubrey, I only hid from you because I knew that if you recognized me you wouldn't have signed—"

"Of course I wouldn't sign!" Aubrey said shrilly before turning to her band mates. "The one thing you girls _should_ believe about _Anastasia Costa_ —as she was known then!—is that she was ' _the most popular girl in school'_ ," Aubrey said in a singsong voice that would have been funny if they all weren't watching her in suspense. "And you know how she got that popular? By stepping on other people's talents and success—"

" _Oh, my God!_ You're still not over that stupid bake sale?!" Stacie's screech matched Aubrey's in both volume and, in Beca's opinion, insanity.

Emily's hand flew to her mouth. "She used the Lord's name in vain," she whispered.

"What happened at the bake sale?!" gasped Fat Amy, as intrigued as though she had reached the cliffhanger of a courtroom drama.

If Beca had any doubts about being the _sanest_ person to have ever set foot in Barden, Georgia, they evaporated immediately as Aubrey and her fellow alumna continued to yell at each other while Fat Amy cried "Pull her hair!" and "Rip her shirt off!" in the background despite neither girl showing any inclination to do so.

Beca pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration and caught bits of the reason Aubrey was currently losing her lid.

Apparently, Stacie had "pretended" to be friends with Aubrey to "steal" her fudge cake recipe and then gone on to win the school's annual bake sale competition with it. Stacie did not dispute those claims but she did also insist that she had been "willing to share credit" after the victory, over Aubrey testing the limits of the sound barrier by calling her a liar as hysterically as she could.

Unable to take any more of their mundane arguing, Beca blew a sharp whistle with her fingers and yelled, "HEY!" which seemed to shut the two up but not calm them down, as Aubrey immediately said into the sudden silence, "We're not signing anything."

Stacie exhaled through her nose. "Aubrey, would you just—"

"Even if you aren't the lying coattail rider I _know_ you are," cut in Aubrey, "I still don't think it's prudent to trust someone as young and inexperienced as you are to promote our band. You graduated _two years_ ahead of Chloe and me."

That seemed to be the logical end of it, since even Fat Amy had to shrug in agreement. Beca folded her arms and watched as Stacie's expression changed from argumentative to businesslike.

"Okay, _that_ I can understand," she said. "But can I ask you to give me ten days to prove my worth? Ten days and I will have 'That Thing You Do' playing on the local radio stations up to two towns over. Thousands of people listening to your music—all in just ten days."

There was a pause while the Bellas considered the offer. From the way it was framed, Beca thought Stacie's proposal meant that they had nothing to lose, which wasn't ever the case, so she asked, "What's the catch?"

Stacie seemed impressed by her question. "You know, I had you pegged as the smart one. All right. The catch is," she paused, "you're not allowed to entertain other promoters until my ten days are up. It's only polite; I mean, why would I bother dating you if I knew you were sleeping with other guys?"

"She means—" Fat Amy began to explain to the youngest Bella.

"I got the metaphor, thanks," said Emily. "Um, and after the ten days? What happens then?"

"Well, if I don't get your song on the radio, then you can walk away and hear no more from me," replied Stacie, looking at Aubrey as she answered. "But if I do get it on the radio, you sign on to a full, twelve-month contract."

Aubrey exchanged looks with Beca and the brunette wondered if they were thinking the same thing. Stacie was the first person to approach them about this; what were the odds there might be others to offer them similar, if not better, deals? Regardless of whether those odds were good or bad, there might be an advantage to having someone they knew personally managing their band—especially someone with a guilty conscience for past wrongs.

"Six months," bargained Aubrey.

Stacie rolled her eyes. "I'd be the laughing stock of the industry! No manager has ever offered a _six_ -month contract."

"No manager has ever _already_ broken their artist's trust prior to the agreement either," reminded Aubrey.

For once, Stacie looked too exhausted to argue. "What do you want me to do, Aubrey? Get on my knees and beg for forgiveness? I'm already pushing it with ten days. It usually takes months. Come on..." After a pause, she said, "Chloe would have accepted."

"And that's why I'm here and she isn't," said Aubrey, not with disrespect for her friend but more to highlight the fact that Chloe was too easily swayed by emotional appeals.

"Isn't she not here because she's grounded?" said Emily.

Aubrey pursed her lips and glared at Emily undermining her authority. "Chloe believes in the majority vote anyway so…" Another round of silence as Aubrey and Beca had silent conversations with each other until—

"All right, knowing you Americans and your Cold War negotiation strategies, this could go on forever," said Fat Amy. "Clearly, there is no _downside_ to waiting ten days for this Catholic schoolgirl fantasy to get our song on the radio. If she doesn't, then that'll be the end of that and whoever we turn away in those ten days will come right back!"

Aubrey and Beca raised their eyebrows, actually impressed that Fat Amy had been able to pin down their leverage.

"Someone give me a pen. I'm signing, you're signing—we're all signing!"

* * *

On Thursday morning the following week, the band gathered at Kay's Diner for a meeting, which had become a daily event to count down the days since they had met with Stacie and signed the ten-day contract.

"Did anybody hear anything?" Beca asked when she arrived, and she was greeted with a chorus of "nah" and "nothing."

Aubrey crossed her arms and leaned back in her seat. "And no word from Ana, either. I told you she was a crook."

"Well, she did say to give her ten days," shrugged Beca. "It's already been six so we don't have to wait that much longer. And no other manager has approached us, so nothing lost but time, I guess."

"Actually, ten _working_ days is two weeks," corrected Chloe. "And since you met her on a Saturday, she technically has until next Friday." They groaned. "You girls never should have signed anything without a lawyer! My dad would have looked at it for free."

"Yeah, looked at it and then proceed to tear it up," Fat Amy pointed out.

"You know, we might just be missing it," Emily said optimistically. "There are tons of radio stations playing tons of songs. And besides, we've still got Chloe's dad's Fourth of July party tomorrow! A hundred people will definitely hear us then!"

"A hundred _old_ people."

"They've got kids!"

Aubrey had been ignoring that part of the conversation and reading the newspaper when she suddenly laid it on the table to show the others. "Girls, look! There's actually a list of Atlanta-based band managers in the classifieds. Maybe we could—"

"Isn't that against the contract?" frowned Beca.

"Ana said we're not allowed to _entertain_ other promoters until the end of her ten days. That assumes _they_ come to _us_. She said nothing about looking them up and innocently asking questions that _may_ lead to an offer," Aubrey said smugly. "If she can trick us with technical terminology, why can't we?"

"I don't know, Bree, it feels really slimy," said Chloe. "We should trust her. I mean, this _is_ her job and we didn't even pay her a cent for it yet."

Aubrey looked ready to argue but seemed to think the better of it after a second and just folded the paper. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

Chloe smiled at her in relief. "Well, if that's all, I gotta go," she said, rising from the booth. "My dad's only letting me free for a few hours and I need to do so some shopping for tomorrow. Hey, what do you girls think of star-spangled boots? Too much, or…? You know what, never mind. I'll find out for myself."

Emily hopped up, sucking the last of her milkshake through the straw. "I'll come with you!" she chirped. "My mom asked me to mail some letters."

Beca and Fat Amy waved goodbye to Chloe and Emily as they left, and once they were gone Aubrey turned to the two. "So listen, I realized that we can't afford to pay for an _actual_ promoter so our deal with Ana is fine for now. But once the ten days are over and she's still got nothing, we need to start thinking about whether or not we're taking this seriously."

"By 'this' you mean…?" Beca questioned.

"Our music careers! How serious are you about making it in the music business—writing original songs, producing our own music? Do something _great_ that gets us out of Barden?"

"Hells yeah, I'm in!" said Fat Amy; whether she was into the idea of furthering their professional careers or into the giant burrito on her plate was unclear, but her enthusiasm for either was unmistakable.

Beca, on the other hand, didn't say anything.

* * *

"Good morning, Mrs. Patterson," greeted Emily, removing one side of her earphones and smiling brightly at the old lady standing in front of the mailbox.

"Hello, dearie," the frail woman croaked. "I won't be long now, just…" She licked a postage stamp with a paper-dry tongue and pressed it against the envelope in her hand, only to have the stamp slide down onto the sidewalk. "Oh, dear, that was my only stamp…"

"Here, you can have one of mine." As Emily helped Mrs. Patterson with her mail, the song on the radio came to a fading end and the disc jockey's voice came on.

" _That was The Vicksburgs with_ 'Drive Faster.' _Time check: it is ten minutes past the hour…_ "

Emily waved away Mrs. Patterson's thanks and started licking her own stamps.

"… _a local band just got a record out. They apparently won the Barden University Talent Show a couple of weeks ago…_ "

Emily gasped and almost swallowed the stamp she left in her mouth when she heard the familiar sound of Beca's drum intro.

" _This is… The Bellas!_ "

"OH, MY GOSH!" screamed Emily, startling Mrs. Patterson when she grabbed the woman by the shoulders. "OH, MY GOSH!"

" _You, doing that thing you do…_ "

Emily shoved her letters into the mailbox chute and sprinted down the street, screaming like a maniac. The people she passed stared and got out of her way in fright but she didn't care; she just ran as fast as she could—laughing and screaming— all the way to the fashion street.

"I like these but do you have them in something more of a skin color?" Chloe asked, holding up a pair of burgundy heels to a saleslady. "I don't think this goes with my hair."

Moments of indecision later, Chloe emerged from the store with three brand new pairs of shoes in shopping bags slung on her elbow, while the dresses and hats she had purchased at the store next door were on her other arm. Now that she was out on the street, Chloe reached into her pocket and turned up the volume of her radio. She heard a high-pitched noise and frowned down at the device, wondering if it was broken.

The noise got louder and louder until it was right beside her. Emily crashed into Chloe with a hug, yelling, "WE'RE ON THE RADIO! WBUJ! WE'RE ON THE RADIO!"

Chloe screamed into the hug and frantically turned the dial to the station—

"… _knew about the heartache I've been going through…_ "

Chloe screamed once more in unison (and harmony) with Emily before their minds telepathically linked and they started running toward Mitchell's Bookstore just a few blocks away. Chloe and Emily were made more excitable when the chorus came on, and they didn't notice the trail of shopping bags they left in their wake.

Beca stood behind the counter of her father's bookstore reading her mail. The postman had come by earlier and surprised Beca with not one but _two_ letters addressed to her. The first was from her mother, dated at the start of summer, from London, where she was attending an academic conference.

The second was a rather odd, karmic sign: a letter from her former band mate. It made her think back to Aubrey's question that morning.

Of course Beca was serious about her music career, but the thought of "making it" had always been accompanied by images of her with her former band. Though things with them were left open-ended after she left for Barden and they made their separate ways, Beca still couldn't help feeling guilty that she was moving on without telling them.

Beca was still fingering the adhesive flap on the envelope when she heard screaming coming from the street. Mr. Mitchell looked up in alarm and quickly followed Beca on her way to the store window. Before they could get there, however, the door swung open (with a loud _ding!_ ) and two girls burst in, breathing heavily yet still somehow managing to scream.

"BECA!" gasped Chloe. "WE'RE ON THE RADIO!"

Beca's eyes widened and her face split into a dumbstruck grin. "Wha—?"

"WBUJ! WBUJ!" Emily cried, jumping up and down and waving her radio in the air.

The few customers in the store were frozen in place, watching the crazy scene unfold. Beca ran back to the counter and lay flat across the table to reach the radio perched on the shelf behind it.

"Turn it on, turn it on, turn it on!"

"—' _Cause I try and try to forget you girl but it's just so hard to do…_ "

Beca couldn't believe it. A song _they_ performed and recorded was playing on one of the most popular stations in town, on the same radio she used to tune into her favorite music when her father wasn't around to scold her for it. A piece of music _she_ contributed to was flowing through the same frequency as music by The Beatles, The Rolling Stones—

"Aaa-AAH!"

It finally hit her that this was happening and Beca let out a primal, victorious yell. She pushed off the counter, turned around, and was immediately engulfed in hug from Chloe. She squeezed the redhead back tightly and, before she knew it, was breathing in her sweet scent, seeing stars burst behind her eyelids, and feeling like she was flying across the universe—

Even more gradually-approaching screams were heard, and the sound of the door bursting open once again broke Beca and Chloe apart. Aubrey and Fat Amy both stood at the entrance looking awestruck, the sunlight coming in rays behind them.

"That's our song on the radio," Aubrey said breathlessly, her eyes locked on to Chloe's.

"That's our song on the radio!" Chloe repeated enthusiastically, taking a running leap into Aubrey's arms as Fat Amy and Emily bounced up and down in a hug beside them. "We did it! We did it!"

Aubrey's face over Chloe's shoulder displayed the happiest emotion Beca had ever seen the blonde wear. She grinned at the two before she herself was swept away in one of Fat Amy's bone-crushing hugs and lifted two feet into the air. After setting Beca down so that the brunettes could hug it out, Fat Amy, still vibrating with excitement, grabbed the nearest GQ magazine and kissed the man on the cover, shocking a little boy playing with pop-up books nearby.

* * *

Beca nervously ran a hand through her hair and adjusted the collar of her signature turtleneck sweater. She had completely forgotten that she wasn't alone on the porch until she heard her father say, "Would it have killed you to wear a dress tonight?"

Beca rolled her eyes and pressed a finger to the doorbell, holding it there for what she hoped was a respectable length of time before releasing it and stepping back.

A few seconds later, the door opened and a radiant Chloe Beale in a simple red-white-and-blue dress and sparkling silver shoes greeted the Mitchells with a warm smile. Beca admired how she managed to look just as she always did yet somehow even more beautiful with every outfit change.

"Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell," she greeted in a softer, huskier voice than what Beca was used to hearing. "And Beca," Chloe added, with an almost imperceptible tilt of her head.

"We brought fruit salad!" Mr. Mitchell announced enthusiastically, holding up a large bowl of Fourth of July-themed berries.

Beca gave Chloe a "kill me now" look, which only made the redhead smile wider as she thanked and accepted the bowl from Mr. Mitchell. Chloe directed the adults to the garden while Beca followed her to the food tent to place the Mitchells' fruit salad next to the Posens' traditional apple pies.

"Does your throat hurt?" asked Beca, catching Chloe rubbing her neck.

"Just a little," she whispered in reply before clearing her throat with a wince. "I think I overdid it with all that screaming yesterday."

"Yeah, you all kind of got carried away," teased Beca.

"I'm just glad nothing happened to all those clothes I dropped on the way to your dad's bookstore," said Chloe, picking a strawberry with her fingers and biting into it. "Which reminds me—you do know we're playing a show tonight, right?"

" _Yes_ ," Beca said emphatically, already expecting this conversation, "and before you say anything, I _am_ in the proper Bellas dress code."

"I said red, white, and blue!"

"This is a dark _blue_ turtleneck and my skin is pale- _white_."

"Beca!"

"Fine." Beca pulled out a pair of giant, white sunglasses from her back pocket and put them on. They made her eyes seem larger and bug-like. "Happy?"

Chloe fought back a smile and tried to remain strict. "And the red?" she demanded.

"Well, I _am_ wearing something red but if I show it off in public I don't think I'll ever be invited back into your home."

Chloe broke into laughter and shoved Beca lightly on the shoulder. "You are a ridiculous woman, Beca Mitchell."

* * *

As the evening gradually wound down to coffee and polite conversation among the guests, the Bellas began to set up for their performance. They were going to lead into the grand fireworks show so expectations were running high. Chloe had introduced Beca to her father for the first time and Beca was determined to make a good impression, though perhaps not for the reasons her own father wanted.

It was also around this time that Beca was formally introduced to Chloe's boyfriend, Tom.

"Ah, the drummer from Luke's studio," the young man said, shaking Beca's hand warmly. "Chloe has told me so much about you; you're really talented."

"Thanks," smiled Beca, pleased, if not a little disappointed, to see that Tom wasn't the snob she had hoped he was.

"Although I do have to blame you for all of these _gigs_ ," he added, giving Chloe a playful glare and a squeeze. "They're eating at my personal time with this one."

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Like I've got nothing better to do this summer than sit around listening to you talk about _sports_."

Tom pretended to look offended. "Men don't just talk about sports! We do things you like, too. Like shopping."

"Hmm, I guess that's true," smiled Chloe, getting on her tiptoes to kiss Tom on the cheek.

Beca couldn't stop her train of thought from leading her to the observation that Tom was the perfect build for Chloe: tall but not imposing; muscular but not bulky.

"We have to finish setting up and _you_ should be talking to Mr. Dolan about that internship," added Chloe, pushing her boyfriend toward the table of adults which included her father.

"Okay, okay," pouted Tom. "I'll bring you back a cup of warm water with some honey for your throat when I'm done."

Chloe blew him a kiss in thanks. Beca turned to her and said, sincerely, "Tom seems like a great guy."

"He is," nodded Chloe, bending down to move some loose wires out of the way. "He's like one of those old-fashioned gentlemen; he treats me like a princess."

Beca sensed a "but" coming so she held her tongue.

"It gets kind of annoying sometimes though," said Chloe with a small smile.

The margaritas that Beca had nabbed from a passing waiter earlier made her reckless enough to want to push the boyfriend issue, but the other three Bellas arrived to help, and Fat Amy's outfit was enough to end all conversation.

The blonde was wearing a red-white-and-blue one-piece jumpsuit that was clearly formerly used at an Australian celebration but was made to match the theme of the evening. The tight-fitted suit left nothing to the imagination, which was why it was wise not to look directly at it.

Aubrey and Emily, on the other hand, had come dressed in their all-American wholesome fashion. The former shook her head at Beca's non-compliance with Chloe's dress code but didn't make too much of a fuss out of it.

"You girls look good. Really rockin' that red, white, and blue."

The girls whipped their heads toward the source of the compliment and found Stacie in a black and silver sparkling dress, holding a champagne glass and smirking at the group.

Aubrey was the first to speak. "What are you doing here?"

"Hey, you!" Fat Amy greeted more enthusiastically. "Miss Manager of the Year!"

"We tried calling you," said Beca. "Where have you been?"

"Well, after I sealed the deal with my new friends at the local radio scene, I treated myself to some shopping downtown—okay, a _lot_ of shopping." Stacie waved a hand over her outfit.

Chloe clutched her chest and sighed admiringly at the dress. "It's absolutely gorgeous."

"Thanks," grinned Stacie. "And to answer your question, Aubrey, I was invited."

Aubrey pursed her lips and nodded. "So… we heard our song on the radio," she said slowly, almost apologetically. "I guess that means we're in your hands now."

Stacie beamed. "And what goods hands they are! Pack your bags tonight, ladies; we are headed to Atlanta in less than twelve hours for a Fourth of July Rock and Roll weekend extravaganza that's going to feature… The Bellas!"

Stacie had said all that in one breath and, far from the delighted squeals she expected from the girls, she got a stunned silence in response. "Don't look so shocked! This is what managers do!"

Emily raised her hand hesitantly. "I… have a problem," she said tentatively.

Stacie snapped her fingers. "Right. You're _sixteen_. It's a good thing we're at one of Barden's biggest social events of the year then. Just lead me to your parents after the show and I'll sort everything out."

"Can you talk my dad into getting me out of work tomorrow, too?" Beca asked hopefully.

Stacie laughed. "Sorry, Beca, you're on own. But I have a feeling you are pretty skilled in doing that yourself." She drained her glass and licked her lips daintily. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I should go and thank Chloe's brother for inviting me tonight."

"So she knows your brother, too?" Fat Amy asked the redhead once Stacie was out of earshot. "Is that in the biblical sense, or…?"

"I actually don't know," Chloe said thoughtfully. Then she winced. "I don't think I _want_ to know either."

"Like I said, she was _popular_ in high school," Aubrey said snidely.

"Yeah, but that was _Ana_ ," reasoned Chloe. "I think she changed when she became Stacie."

"So 'Stacie Conrad' is some sort of alter ego of Ana Costa?" asked Beca.

"Well, 'Stacie' could have come from 'Anastasia,' and her mother's maiden name was Conrad. I guess you can only make it far in the industry if you're blonde and white so she dyed her hair and changed her name."

"I bet that was a shock for her," snorted Aubrey, "not getting what she wants for a change."

"Dude, what's your _real_ problem with Stacie?" Beca asked curiously. "She seems really cool and _you_ don't seem to have a problem with her," she gestured at Chloe. "This can't just be about a stupid high school bake sale—"

"Well, it is," snapped Aubrey, turning her back on them to continue setting up. "And get into position. We're starting in five minutes."

When Aubrey was out of earshot, plugging in their amplifiers, Chloe turned to Beca and grimaced apologetically. "Sorry about that. Aubrey just doesn't… It's not _just_ about the bake sale," she said firmly. "It's about what the bake sale represents."

"No worries," said Beca. "It was my fault for asking something personal anyway."

Chloe bit her lip, wanting to disagree, but she shifted their attentions back to their performance. "Anyway, come on, we've got a show to do!"

Beca watched Chloe walk away, back to Aubrey, and rub her friend's back—briefly and gently, as though she knew that Aubrey didn't want to draw attention to her outburst but also needed some sign of support.

As the others returned to what they were doing, Beca reflected on what a small town Barden really was that even their new manager, who had seemingly come out of nowhere, did not come out of nowhere at all but had personal (albeit rough) ties to the band's leader. For some reason it made her feel uneasy; as though, despite being convinced that she was a part of The Bellas, she was still intruding on something personal between these girls.

* * *

 **Response to Reviews:**

 **Psychic Guest** **(May 8)** \- Please, review at your own leisure haha. It's funny 'cause Guy (Beca's character in the movie) is this goofy, adorable guy and Beca's... Beca, but I took liberties in this AU and bent her a bit into shape. Thank you for your review! On Civil War: Oh, god, where to begin? As someone who is currently writing a similar situation in The Light, I can understand both sides, but to keep things short: I would side with Team Iron Man at first but when I feel like the system isn't working the way it should be I would just pop on over to the other side haha. Did I just accidentally reveal what Beca is going to do? Haha, kidding!) On 2nd review: IKR? The Bellas are a riot! (Feeble pun intended.) Thanks for dropping a review! Have a great day.

 **RJRMovieFan** **(16, 2, and 1 hour(s) ago)** \- Thanks! You're the second reviewer to mention the Playboy thing haha. I see them as compliments to my budding comedic writing. (FYI, I am not good at writing comedy.) Oh, yes! I have my ticket reserved for an early screening on the 18th so I need to finish _this_ story ASAP! Thank you so much! I was really worried about incorporating lyrics (I admit to skipping lyrics in other stories I've read) especially since the titular song plays about 11 or 12 times in the movie haha and it's encouraging to see that you liked it! I hope the pacing of this chapter is proportionate to its length and that the introduction of Stacie wasn't abrupt. (Smith is not important, so don't mind him.) Thanks for your review! Have a great day.

 **A/N on Stacie:** I originally hadn't planned for Stacie to be in this story because, for those familiar with the movie, I actually had John as Horace and Gail as Mr. White (boy, what a totally different chapter this would have been!) but I was never happy making Aubrey the Jimmy because I don't _hate_ Aubrey. So I needed something (or someone) to drive Aubrey's character development (and no, this is not necessarily in a romantic direction), so I built my own backstories for these characters – but that's all I'm going to risk spoiling for now.


	5. Chapter Five

**A/N** : In this AU, Barden is a fictional town in Georgia (est. pop. ~3,000) about 2-3 hours from Atlanta.

* * *

 **CHAPTER FIVE**

As Stacie had promised, in less than twelve hours the girls and their instruments were all packed in Fat Amy's van and on their way to Atlanta for their matinee performance. They were the first band in the lineup for a showcase concert hosted by some D-list celebrity so they headed up to state's capital early in the day to get a feel of the place.

Later on they would wish that they had kept it a surprise.

"Emily? Em!" Beca called out to the younger brunette, who took a wrong turn on the way to The Bellas' dressing room. The hallways behind the stage were labyrinthine and Beca followed the young girl before she got too far. "Hey, don't go wandering off like that. These corridors can get tricky—"

Once she had caught up to Emily, Beca saw what had enticed her to deliberately break off the path. At the end of the narrow corridor they had gone through was a large, dark hall, presumably the backstage area, and at the other end of the hall were two sets of steps that led to the stage, which was concealed from view by a massive, velvet curtain.

Emily was already walking up the nearest steps.

"Where are you going?" came Fat Amy's panting as she squeezed through the corridor behind Beca. Aubrey and Chloe were following her, looking confused.

Beca nodded toward the stage and waited for the other two to catch up before they followed Emily. Pulling the heavy fabric to the side, they found their bassist standing awestruck and frozen in the middle of the polished wooden stage, gazing out at the empty seats.

"Emily?"

Beca had to shield her eyes from the stage lights to be able to see what Emily was seeing: rows upon rows of theater seats beginning just a few feet from edge of the stage and extending so far back that they looked tiny in their eyes—and those were just the orchestra seats. The balcony seemed to disappear into the ceiling of the magnificent hall.

The five of them stood there with their mouths hanging open.

"How many people do you think this theater holds?" Chloe asked quietly, as though they were standing in the belly of a slumbering beast.

"Two thousand two hundred and three," Emily whispered back.

Nobody questioned how she knew that. Even Fat Amy, who was normally indifferent to crowd size, broke out a sweat at the thought of playing live in front of two _thousand_ people.

Beca bit her lip. She slowly raised her hands and struck her palms against each other.

The acoustics of the theater allowed the sound of her clap to bounce off the walls and give off a rich echo. Chloe did the same and so did the others until the hall seemed to echo with thunderous applause.

* * *

"Well, think of it this way," Chloe was saying moments later as they warmed up in their dressing room, "we get about a hundred people per show back in Barden, right? So this is just like playing twenty-two gigs!"

"Yeah, but it's mostly the _same_ hundred people that watch us," Fat Amy pointed out, "and they all like us already. These people have probably never heard of us."

Beca excused herself quietly to go to the bathroom. She, like Fat Amy, wasn't the type to get nervous playing in front a large audience but that didn't mean she wasn't bothered by listening to other people be nervous about it.

Since they were the least renowned act in the entire show, the Bellas got the most obscurely located dressing room, hidden deep in the labyrinth behind the stage. She assumed the comfort rooms would be closer _to_ the stage, so she retraced her steps and passed several occupied and unoccupied dressing rooms.

At the end of the hallway, she reached a dressing room whose door had a gold foil star taped to it. The name "'Boss' Vic Koss" was printed underneath it, with the word "Host" in parentheses. His door wasn't shut all the way so when Beca inadvertently overheard a familiar voice from inside, she paused.

"Mr. Koss, I just wanted to thank you again for agreeing to squeeze in The Bellas—"

"Ah, yes," said a voice, distorted as though the man held something between his teeth, "the girl group, right? Well, why don't you come over here, sweetie, and show me how thankful you are?"

"Excuse me?"

Beca's pulse raced when she detected a slight apprehension in Stacie's cold and offended tone. She had her hand on the door, ready to intervene, when Mr. Koss guffawed.

"I'm only kiddin'! I see you're one of those _feminist_ types though."

"Yes, well—"

"I don't think I've ever met a girl manager before," Mr. Koss said thoughtfully, making an obnoxious noise while blowing out his cigar. "But I guess it helps to have the right _ass_ ets when it comes to negotiations, huh?"

"With all due respect, sir, that is _not_ how I conduct my business," Stacie replied stiffly.

"Isn't it though?" Beca heard a creaking noise; Mr. Koss had either gotten off his chair or leaned back in it. "Isn't that what you did to me—throwing your chest out, bathing me in your charm—to get your girl group in my sold-out show at the last minute? _Free of charge_ , I might add."

"You were legally bound to include three independent acts for free," Stacie pointed out. "You were missing one. I saw an opportunity for the both of us and I took it."

Mr. Koss snorted disbelievingly. "Admit it, girl. You led me on so you could get your Bellas to play. I don't like being used, Ms. Conrad, but I'll let it slide if you just admit to that."

There was a pause wherein even Beca held her breath in anticipation. A part of her was furious that men like Koss actually existed in the industry, but she was also painfully aware of the bigger picture; making trouble with Koss wouldn't do the band any good.

"That is not how I conduct my business," Stacie repeated firmly. "Excuse me, I have to attend to my artists."

Beca heard the click-clacking of heels fast approaching and quickly ducked around the corner to hide. She didn't want Stacie to know that she was eavesdropping, let alone on a conversation like that. Seeing Stacie head off in the other direction, Beca let out the breath she'd been holding and shook her head at the cackling she heard from inside the host's dressing room.

* * *

" _Hell_ -o, Atlanta!"

The audience cheered and clapped as "Boss" Vic Koss peeked his head out from behind the curtain. His minor celebrity was enough to have them chanting his name before he even got his entire body onstage.

"We've got a great show tonight, ladies and gentlemen! We got Johnny D and The Walkers—The Hollyhocks—The Vicksburgs! And much, much more!" More cheers and applause followed each announcement. "But first, we're gonna shake, bake, and make with Barden's own… The Bellas!"

The heavy curtains were pulled and the first thing the audience saw was five women squinting and shielding their eyes from the harsh lighting. There were a few polite cheers scattered around the large theater but loudest among all reactions was a stage whisper of "Where the heck is _Barden_?"

Fat Amy leaned forward slightly and attempted a joke but then realized that her microphone wasn't turned on. She tapped it with her finger and turned to her band mates. "Hey—the mic's not on."

Aubrey looked at hers in shock after she tested it herself. She turned to Stacie, who was watching from the wings, and mouthed, "The mic's not on!"

The audience did not appreciate the prolonged and awkward silence following Mr. Koss's energetic introduction and they began calling out "What's going on?" and "Get on with it already!"

The Bellas were used to worse heckling so they kept their heads cool. That is, until the microphones were suddenly switched on and audio feedback wailed at them and echoed around the hall. The cries and jeers multiplied—and in a theater with amazing acoustics, nothing could be more discouraging. Yet The Bellas didn't lose what was left of their confidence. At least there was no risk of a starting riot.

"Maybe we should just start?" suggested Fat Amy once the wailing stopped.

Aubrey nodded at Beca and the drummer quickly stepped on the bass pedal—then immediately cursed herself for forgetting to strike her sticks to signal the tempo first. That realization, combined with the almost deafening echoes of jeers, caused her to fumble the beat at the start.

But that wasn't the worst part. The vibration of the bass drum had somehow caused the cymbal's stand to topple over and crash onto the stage floor.

The audience's reaction turned to laughter and the Bellas ignored its derogatory tone, fixed Beca's drum set, and just powered through their performance, as horrible as it was to sing an upbeat song amid persistent booing from an audience of two thousand two hundred and three.

* * *

Beca knew that that performance marked the end of it all, but she found solace in the fact that they fell not too far from the ground; they were unknowns going in and hopefully unknowns going out. As they walked through the labyrinth on their way to the dressing rooms, however, she discovered that Aubrey wasn't thinking similar thoughts.

"I hope you all remember the way you feel right now so you will never want to feel this way ever again," she said in a tone that was meant to be encouraging but out of habit came out as an order. "Keep this in mind on our next performance."

"Aubrey, I hate to break it to you but I think this is the last—"

"Beca, can I speak with you for a moment?"

They all turned around and saw Stacie standing at the other end of the hallway with a neutral expression on her face. The Bellas exchanged looks, wondering if their manager thought breaking the bad news to them one by one would make it easier.

Beca nodded solemnly and Aubrey led the rest of The Bellas back on their way continuing her "cheer-up" speech while trying to ignore what had just happened.

"—and Chloe, your voice was _all over_ the place—"

Beca frowned as she walked up to Stacie. "I know we each had our flaws but Aubrey wasn't exactly on-key either," she said conversationally, jerking her thumb back at her band mates going in the other direction.

Stacie gave Beca's shoulder an encouraging pat. "It wasn't as bad as it could have been," she said. "Come, let's go for a walk to shake it off. There's a nice coffee house down the street."

"What about the others?"

"They need to sober up a bit," Stacie replied grimly. "But you? You're fine." She pushed open the back entrance and continued, "You just have to learn not to let technical difficulties rattle you up. You're the drummer, the backbone—the _timekeeper._ Without you in check, the whole thing could fall apart."

"I know. I'm sorry," sighed Beca. "I honestly didn't think I had stage fright, you know? But when you're out there being _booed_ by twenty-two hundred people—"

Stacie shook her head. "Your problem wasn't stage fright. You handled the rest of the performance with as much grace as you could—and that shows professionalism. You girls were professional; your audience wasn't."

"And neither was our host," added Beca, giving Stacie a sideways look.

"Yeah, he's an asshole," Stacie muttered thoughtfully before frowning at Beca. "Did he say anything to you?"

Beca shook her head. "I just saw him laughing at us from the side."

"Yeah, well… an asshole would do that."

They stopped at a pedestrian crossing and waited for the light to turn.

"So is this the end of our journey with you, or what?" Beca blurted out, unable to take the slow burn. "'Cause I'm fine with it, you know… I mean, we did our best and—"

"Beca, relax. I didn't invite you for coffee to fire you. That would be against the contract anyway."

"Oh." Beca dropped her guard in relief. "So what are we doing?"

Stacie glanced left and right before crossing. "I need to confess something."

"Go on."

"I'm not an independent promoter like I said I was—"

Beca stopped in the middle of the crosswalk. She knew it was too good to be true. This was just a prank to embarrass The Bellas because Stacie wasn't over the bake sale either—

"—I'm an A&R representative at Residual Heat Records in LA."

"Wait—what?!" Beca jogged faster to avoid getting swept away by the pedestrians walking in the other direction.

"I was promoted a couple of months ago from an internship position," explained Stacie, "which kind of pissed off a lot of people—not least because I was a woman—and I've been on the hunt for my next biggest talent, preferably female this time, to show all those jerks at the office that my success wasn't a fluke."

"And you came back to Barden for _us_?"

Stacie nodded. "A friend told me about an all-female band that's been getting popular out here so I decided to check you guys out at Hank's Shanks the night of the riot. You were good, obviously, but I was worried you were inexperienced."

"Ironically, we thought the same of you," muttered Beca.

"I also naively didn't think it would be half-filled with people I knew, even if it _was_ from my small hometown of Barden," chuckled Stacie. "But I still wasn't sure how far The Bellas could go so I pretended to be some nobody promoter to see how far you _did_ go before placing all my eggs in your basket."

"Oh." Beca's face fell. "So… _this_ is how far we went?"

"Yes and no," Stacie said cryptically. "Tonight, I saw how far you would go to put on a show in spite of a musician's worst nightmare happening onstage. Tonight, I saw Aubrey's determination to get on with the _next_ show even after this one.

"The Bellas have a heart and strength of spirit that even some chart-topping bands I've personally met couldn't match… which is why I am offering to release your record nationally and add The Bellas to Residual Heat's collection of artists."

Beca did a double take. "Are you serious? After _that_ performance?"

Stacie laughed. "Weren't you listening to a word I just said? Anyway, we're here." She gestured at the coffeehouse entrance. "There's someone inside I wish you wouldn't have to meet but it can't be helped."

Stacie opened the door and led the way inside the busy establishment. The lights were dim and cozy, and soft jazz played in the background, which pleased Beca.

"As a rookie A&R rep, I still have to get the green light on my artists by co-signing them with any of the more senior reps," Stacie explained as they made their way to the back, where a man in a tailored suit was checking his teeth in a handheld mirror. "Beca, I'd like you to meet John Smith."

Beca was greeted with a large smile and a gentle, almost patronizing, handshake. "Ah, the drummer!" Mr. Smith said ecstatically. "Tell me, you planned the whole cymbal crashing, didn't you? That was hi-hat _-larious_ —I don't think I've ever laughed that much in my life. I ought to check my underwear if I soiled myself during your skit."

Beca raised an eyebrow at Stacie, who held up a hand in an "I'll handle this" gesture. "Mr. Smith—Mr. Smith, this is the band I was telling you about," Stacie said over his laughter. "The one I want to sign onto the label."

Mr. Smith's chuckles slowed down to a look of disbelief. "Are you serious? After _that_ performance?"

Beca exchanged amused looks with Stacie.

"Yes, sir," Stacie said confidently. "The technical problems were not their fault, yet they performed better than most artists would in a similar position. I've also seen their past gigs and they've had no problem dealing with a large audience. I'm telling you, sir, the Bellas are a hidden gem. If we don't take it and polish it now, some other label will."

Mr. Smith stroked his jaw thoughtfully when he realized that Stacie was being serious. "Well, your song _is_ really good," he muttered, sizing Beca up. "It's snappy, you know? I like that. And I'd love to release it under Residual Heat but…" He looked between Stacie and Beca, sighed dramatically, and then slapped his thigh. "Eh, why not! A one-hit wonder is better than a no-hit blunder, as I always say. You got it, Conrad!"

Beca grinned and gave Stacie a thankful look but her manager had something else up her sleeve. "And I'm sure you understand, Mr. Smith, that this means The Bellas will be joining the rest of the Residual Heat roster in their Midwest State Fair Tour?"

Mr. Smith narrowed his eyes and leaned back in his seat as he realized Stacie's plan. "Is this why you had me come all the way down to Atlanta when you could have gone straight to old Dean over at Nashville? Because _I_ manage the Midwest tour and he's stuck in his office cranking out country tunes?"

Stacie flashed him a sly smile. "I guess I just trust your taste in music more, Mr. Smith," she said sweetly.

* * *

Beca was excited to break the good news to the rest of the band. Stacie had picked her to bring along to meet Mr. Smith because she was 'the smart one,' but Beca still insisted on individual contracts for each of the five Bellas. So they were only now on their way back to the theater to surprise them.

They had been gone for over half an hour, which was hopefully enough time for the girls to have calmed down but, as Beca expected, she opened the dressing room door minutes later and was engulfed in a somber atmosphere.

Aubrey was leaning against the make-up table with her arms crossed, staring at nothing on the floor. She didn't even look up to question where Beca had been, what had happened, or why it took so long. Fat Amy was resting her head on her arms while sitting backwards on a chair. Chloe and Emily were sitting next to each other on a bench, both with red-rimmed eyes and enclosed together in a half-hug.

That last image made Beca want to blurt out the good news faster. "Hey, don't look so upset! Stacie and I brought great news!" That did little to cheer the girls up, and being the only cheerful person in the room made Beca feel extremely out of her element, so she motioned Stacie to introduce Mr. Smith.

"Girls, this is John Smith," began Stacie. "He's the tour manager at Residual Heat Records… where I am actually employed as an A&R representative."

" _Junior_ A &R rep," corrected Mr. Smith, stepping inside the room. Looking around, he coughed, "Augh, so much estrogen in the air."

Stacie attempted to blow past his inappropriate remark by getting straight to the good news. "Basically, we at Residual Heat want to release ' _That Thing You Do'_ nationally. We also want to include The Bellas in our Midwest State Fair Rock and Roll tour, after which we can begin talking about producing more songs and maybe an album."

Now _that_ seemed to drastically improve everyone's moods—Beca nodded at Fat Amy when she whispered "Even after _that_ disaster?" to her—everyone's except Chloe's, Beca noticed, who was wearing only a half-hearted smile. Amid the pleasantries and introductions between the band members and Mr. Smith that followed the announcement, Beca saw Chloe's smile fade into a melancholic expression.

"Hang on," muttered Mr. Smith, after everyone had shaken his hand. "One… two… three… four, five. There are five of you?"

"Y-yes, sir," said Aubrey, worry crossing her features.

"Hmm." Mr. Smith folded his arms and frowned. "I guess from where I was sitting I didn't see the tall one behind the large immigrant."

Once again, Stacie tried to blow past his offensive remarks. "Does it matter?"

"Well, if you're thinking of marketing these girls big it does," replied Mr. Smith. "One girl is fine, three is a crowd—but _five_? You're going to have a cluttered stage, a cluttered photo op—"

"We can make it work when the time comes. Other bands have managed—"

"Name recognition decreases by over forty-six percent when a band goes from four to five members unless there is a solid frontman," continued Mr. Smith. "And in quintets _with_ frontmen, leadership fluctuations increase by twelve percent leading one in seven to break up and form smaller groups."

"Those numbers _have_ to be made up—"

"Stacie, it's okay," Chloe interrupted softly, turning everyone's attention to her. "You don't have to worry about that anymore, Mr. Smith. I'm quitting The Bellas."

"What? NO!"

Beca didn't mean for it to come out as loudly as it did, but she didn't care. There was no reason Chloe should have to quit the band—there just wasn't.

"You don't _have_ to quit, Chloe," Emily said in a wavering voice.

"Yeah, ginge, we'll keep you on rhythm no matter what," nodded Fat Amy. "You don't have to sing."

Beca was in shock. "I can't believe you would drop Chloe as a vocalist after _one_ bad show! Newsflash—we _all_ sucked tonight!"

"Beca," Chloe said gently, "it's not that, it's… I…" She looked behind her for support.

"Chloe has nodes," Aubrey said unemotionally.

"N-nodes?" Beca asked, confused; Stacie had given a small gasp of pity and Mr. Smith blew a low whistle, which made her worry that it was a big deal. "What are nodes?"

"Vocal cord nodules," explained Mr. Smith. "The buildup of callouses on the vocal folds from overuse." He winced sympathetically. "Makes it incredibly painful to sing. How long have you known?"

"A little over a month."

"Why didn't you tell us?" demanded Beca. "We wouldn't have played back-to-back nights if we knew—"

"It was worth it," insisted Chloe, "being up on stage with you girls, seeing people enjoy our music. But now… now it's reached a point where I can't lie about my nodes anymore. I can't sing and the band works better with just four people so I'm quit—"

"Stop saying that. How can you even _think_ of quitting?" Beca looked at her with incredulity and, irrationally, a sense of betrayal. She knew she was letting her emotions get the best of her but she didn't expect rationality to explain why she wouldn't accept her dreams coming true if Chloe wasn't going to be there to share it with.

She clutched at straws. "You're part of the history of this band! You were there at its birth—you even _named_ us! How can you think of leaving The Bellas just when we're about to do something great?"

Chloe simply looked down at her feet. Even Fat Amy and Emily looked away but Beca knew they agreed with her—they just didn't want to put more pressure on Chloe. Only Aubrey kept an unreadable expression on her face, though she was determined not to look at her best friend.

After a long and uncomfortable silence, Beca heard Mr. Smith mutter, "This is why I don't work with women," before clearing his throat and asking Aubrey, "You, Posey. Can you manage singing and playing guitar at the same time or has the female brain not developed that far yet?"

"It's—" Aubrey clenched her jaw and decided not to bother to correct the man. Instead, she sighed heavily and nodded.

Beca's heart sank as they took this to mean Aubrey's acceptance of Chloe's resignation. Emily's shoulders visibly sagged and Fat Amy swallowed a lump in her throat.

"Mr. Smith, can I speak to you outside for a minute?" requested Stacie, casting a quick glance Chloe's way.

The weight of what just happened was still only starting to settle in, so the Bellas almost didn't notice that they were alone in the room. Their two managers weren't gone for long and soon they heard Mr. Smith say, "Fine, but don't be surprised when you find a zero missing on your paycheck, Conrad."

The door was yanked open and Mr. Smith leaned inside with a dazzling smile. "Well, ladies, I've had my fun," he said with his hand still on the doorknob. "The contracts are with Conrad so I guess I'll see you at Columbus in a couple of days—oh, and one more thing," he leaned back in, "y'all are from a town called Barden, right? Call yourselves 'The Barden Bellas' instead. It's nice, it's alliterative, and it will soften the blow of being an all-female group."

When Stacie shut the door behind her, she pulled out sheets of paper from her briefcase, set them on the table, and proceeded to sign her name on each of them.

"Do we really have to change our name?" Fat Amy asked dully. As excited as she was to have a legitimate contract in front of her, loyalty dictated she not feel good about it.

"You ever heard of The Trebled Boys?" Stacie asked her, not looking up from one of the contracts she was still writing on.

"No."

"That's because they are now known as _The Treblemakers_ now—the hit teen sensation that's sweeping the nation—thanks to Mr. Smith," smirked Stacie, straightening up and handing Fat Amy her contract and a pen. "He may be a hopeless misogynist but he's damn good at his job."

When it came to Beca's turn to be handed a contract, the drummer didn't bother hiding her distaste. Beca hadn't spoken a word to, nor looked at anyone, since her outburst, but she looked up at Stacie hopefully when the manager approached.

Understanding reflected in Stacie's greyish-green eyes and the woman lowered her hand, spun around, and shuffled through the papers. "Chloe? Ready to sign yours?"

Everyone turned to Stacie in surprise. Chloe looked extremely confused so Stacie spread the contract out in front of her; there were crossed out sentences and handwritten inserts all over the place.

"I'm hiring you as the band's personal wardrobe manager," smiled Stacie. "I love the way you dress and I think you have a talent for PR. I'm going to need a lot of help on this tour, so what do you say?"

Chloe's mouth dropped and she shook her head in disbelief. "Stacie, you didn't have to do that…"

"I know I didn't have to. I _needed_ to," assured Stacie, shoving the paper into the redhead's hands. "Now, come with me, we need to talk about the 'look' we envision for The Barden Bellas…"

As she led Chloe out of the dressing room, Stacie threw Beca a wink. The drummer grinned back gratefully, but that smile slid off when the rest of the Bellas were once again alone in the quiet room and she realized how close they had come to losing Chloe.

The thought made her sick to the stomach and she saw someone she could blame.

"Why didn't you stand up for her? You're her best friend," she said accusingly in Aubrey's direction, too upset to address the blonde directly. "So she can't harmonize with you anymore—was that enough of a reason to let her walk away from her dream?"

"This was never her dream," Aubrey corrected vaguely. She walked over to the table where Stacie had left the remaining contracts and bent over to sign hers. "And you're right, Beca, I _am_ her best friend." She straightened up and looked her in the eye. "So I know that things are not as simple as you think they are."

Aubrey took a deep, tired breath and looked around the room. "I know I don't say it very often… but thank you. We really couldn't have gotten this far without every single one of you working as hard as you did, and Chloe is very much included in that." She grabbed her things, said, "I'll be in the van," and walked out of the dressing room.

* * *

 **A/N:** Yes, Mr. Smith's statistics _were_ made up but there should really be a study on this– is it a coincidence that more quartet bands are successful vs quintet bands? Hmm...

 **Random Connection Comment** : "Boss" Vic Koss is played in the movie by comedian Kevin Pollack, who also directed Brittany Snow in _The Late Bloomer_. Also, I didn't change his name because there was no one in the Pitch Perfect universe whom I thought was as slimy as Koss.


	6. Chapter Six

**A/N:** Sorry for the really long delay. As fans of the movie might have realized, we're approaching the montage part so I had to stretch seconds of film into thousands of words – not to mention having to fill out the arcs of each character without straying too much from the source literature.

* * *

 **CHAPTER SIX**

The week after the emotional roller coaster the Bellas rode in Atlanta was spent working out the logistics and getting parental consent. Beca had no doubt that her father would be completely against her leaving the safety and security of Barden to be a musician; she only wondered what reason he would give.

"You can't just quit your job—I need you at the bookstore!"

"You've been running the bookstore for four and half years without me! I've barely worked there for three _weeks_ and I think I may have even lost you business."

"What about learning discipline and responsibility?"

"Having a job and living on the road won't teach me that?"

"What about college?"

"Yeah, I'm not doing that."

"Then what _are_ you going to do the rest of your life, young lady?"

Beca raised an eyebrow. " _This,_ " she said firmly. "Don't you get it, Dad? _This_ is what I want to do the rest of my life: make music. Instead of looking for reasons to force me to stay, you should be glad I'm going after what I want."

Mr. Mitchell huffed and ran a hand through his hair. Sheila rubbed his shoulders comfortingly. Beca knew (after accidentally overhearing a private conversation between the woman and her husband) that Sheila was on her side, but making her opinion vocal now would only give Mr. Mitchell the idea that they were ganging up on him, so she kept quiet. Beca didn't blame her but she was done with her father's controlling nature.

"Look, I'm eighteen so I already signed the contract," she said with an air of finality. "I just let you know out of courtesy to you and Sheila, but I'm going whether you like it or not. And whether or not I leave on good terms is up to you."

* * *

Beca tossed her duffel bag onto the bench across Fat Amy on a quiet night in Kay's Diner a few days later. Her Australian band mate looked up from the breadcrumb-covered magazine she was reading and grinned. "How did it go with your old man?"

"He gave me his 'blessing,'" answered Beca, rolling her eyes and making air quotes with her fingers as she sat down. "What about your parents?"

Fat Amy waved her hand carelessly and turned back to her magazine. Beca had a sneaking suspicion that Fat Amy's parents weren't aware of the crazy antics their daughter had been up to halfway across the world for the past two years.

Realizing that she didn't actually know that much about her band mate, Beca asked curiously, "Do they approve of you being in a band?"

Fat Amy looked up again. "The difference between Aussies and Yanks, Beca, is that we let our children do whatever the hell they want," she said. "You've got to let children learn to fight the beasts themselves; chuck them into the wilderness and let them find their way."

Beca found the metaphor oddly inspirational, if not concerning when interpreted literally. "At least I'm not the only one fighting a parent over this," she mused, commenting on how their other band mates have been having less success than they have had.

"Well," Fat Amy said, chewing on a stale fry, "Em's parents have reason to worry. I mean the girl's practically an infant." She swallowed. "Aubrey's parents don't really mind what she does—which is kind of sad when you think about it, but once The General gets all bossy it's easy to forget. And Chloe…"

Beca sat up eagerly. "Yeah?"

"I never really understood Chloe," Fat Amy said, shaking her head. "Her dad only sees this as her hobby, and she goes to gigs like she's overthrowing the government."

Beca frowned in confusion. "What?"

"Chloe sees it as an act of rebellion. I don't think she cares if we make it big or not, as long as she gets to play and be all 'I'm not Daddy's Little Girl'."

Beca wondered if that was what Aubrey meant about this not being Chloe's dream. She didn't get to dwell on the thought for long, since a loud bang from the diner's entrance turned their heads in that direction.

"Hey, guys!" Emily greeted ecstatically, attempting to squeeze through the doors with two large bags and a suitcase.

"Hey, you made it!" cheered Fat Amy.

"Yeah, can you believe it?" Emily said breathlessly once she was settled in the booth beside Beca. "I mean, I have to go back at the end of summer but still, it's a miracle my parents even let me cross state lines! That Stacie has got a golden tongue, I tell ya—"

"Wait, you're going back after the tour?" said Beca. "What about the album—everything _a_ _fter_ the tour?"

Emily grimaced apologetically. "I still have to finish high school, Beca. I'm sure Stacie will figure something out though. She's awesome."

Beca nodded. She had been so caught up in her own excitement of finally getting a break that it never crossed her mind to think of life outside their music career, and that, though she was only two years older than Emily, there were still some rules in Emily's life that had to be followed, like school.

Beca couldn't understand why the news of Emily not being there for the whole ride made her kind of sad. Perhaps she was getting attached to the Bellas faster than she expected to.

"… said something about surgery for her nodes."

Beca had only caught the end of Emily's sentence. "Wait, what about surgery?"

"I overheard Stacie talking to Chloe about having her nodes removed," Emily explained in a hushed voice, as though afraid of being caught gossiping. "Chloe said she wouldn't have been able to sing for two whole weeks after—that's probably why she didn't tell us anything before."

"But now that she doesn't have to sing, is she thinking of doing it?"

Emily shrugged. "I don't know; that's what Stacie was asking, too. I think Chloe's not sure what to do either—hi, Bree!"

"Sorry I'm late," the singer panted, checking her wristwatch once she was settled in their booth—although 'settled' might not be the right word; she kept glancing at the entrance nervously.

"Relax, Stacie told us to be here at eight, we've got a good ten minutes to go," said Fat Amy. "Have some chips."

"Something wrong?" Beca asked Aubrey, noticing how she hadn't ceased looking back at the entrance every few seconds.

"I haven't heard from Chloe since yesterday," Aubrey replied nervously. "The last time we spoke, her father was still refusing to let her go. She said she'd call me with an update but…"

"Yesterday? Oh, don't worry about it," Emily said in her usual cheery tone. "Stacie won my parents over yesterday and she said she'd be talking to Chloe's today—she's bound to win them over, you'll see."

Aubrey smiled slightly at Emily's optimism but said, "For once it's not Ana's—Stacie's—competence I'm worried about…"

Beca gave her a questioning look; Aubrey returned it with a hesitant one. Their small argument (if it could even be called that) a few days ago was still fresh on both their minds. Aubrey explained, "Chloe would follow her father's wishes to the grave… I really think she might choose to stay."

* * *

"Are you ready for this?"

Chloe took a deep, shaky breath and nodded. Stacie smiled encouragingly and opened the doors to the van she had rented for the drive up to Ohio. It was slightly smaller than Fat Amy's and was windowless, but since the band was getting brand new instruments for the tour, it seemed more than good enough for the ten-hour trip. "Welcome to your new life, Chloe Beale."

Chloe bit her lip and proceeded to load her bags in the back with Stacie's help. Once done, Stacie glanced at her watch and sucked her teeth. "We should go. I have a feeling Aubrey's not the type to take tardiness lightly."

"That feeling would be right," affirmed Chloe. Stacie hopped into the driver's seat but before Chloe got into the van herself, she took one last look at her home and bade it and her family a silent goodbye.

* * *

The diner was empty and most of its lights had already been turned off by the time Stacie popped her head through its door. "Girls?" she called. "Sorry I'm late but we should get a move on."

After Emily thanked Kay for keeping her restaurant open late for them, the four Bellas trudged toward the exit carrying their bags and a bittersweet air with them; the appearance of Stacie had confirmed their fears.

"Chloe?" Emily asked hopefully as she passed Stacie, who was holding the door open for them. Their manager merely motioned them to get in the van.

Not wanting to start the journey on a low note, Fat Amy playfully pushed past them to get dibs on the front seat. "Shotgun! There's no way I'm gonna squish myself in the back with you twigs—"

"Sorry, seat's taken."

Aubrey and Emily's squeals upon discovering Chloe in the front seat cut through the silence of the deserted street. Fat Amy even launched forward with a delighted cry and wrapped the redhead in her arms—although she may have had an ulterior motive, as Chloe suddenly found herself being lifted onto the sidewalk while Fat Amy was already buckling in her seatbelt.

"You scared me, Chlo," Aubrey said over Chloe's shoulder as they embraced. "I seriously thought you weren't coming."

"You would have done great even without me," Chloe assured her firmly. "Although, touring the Midwest with these three? Hmm, yeah, I see why you were worried."

"Ha-ha." Emily rolled her eyes as she pulled Chloe in for a hug. "I'm really happy you're coming and all, but I was kind of excited to rub it in your face if you didn't," she joked. "I would never have let you forget the _amazing_ summer I had while you stayed in Barden weaving baskets at the rec center."

Chloe laughed. "Of course, that was the biggest thing on my mind while trying to convince my parents—'But, Daddy, what would _Emily_ think of me?'"

Emily giggled as Chloe shoved her playfully into the van.

Beca was up next.

"How _did_ you convince your dad to let you go?" the drummer asked, trying her best not to look too over-the-moon about it.

Chloe shrugged coyly. "He can't say no to his little girl, I guess."

Beca gave an impressed nod. "Well… good. And thanks for showing up. Kind of late though—"

"Were you worried I wouldn't?"

Beca stopped her reply before it left her throat, suddenly remembering how the roles were reversed just a few weeks ago, and in almost the exact same spot. She matched the smirk Chloe was wearing and got into the van without giving her an answer.

* * *

It was almost midnight and they had just crossed into Tennessee when Beca felt Chloe stir from her position lying across the bench beside Beca. Chloe pushed herself up and reached blindly for the bottle she kept under her seat.

"Can't sleep?" she asked Beca hoarsely, even after taking a long sip of her drink.

Beca shook her head. "Gotta have at least two pairs of eyes on the road," she said, nodding toward the front of the van, where Fat Amy was leaning so far back in the passenger's seat that they could see her wide-open, drooling mouth.

"Hey, Stace, you ready to switch?" Chloe asked quietly, careful not to wake Aubrey and Emily, asleep on the bench in front of them.

Stacie said, "I'm good," and pointed to the cup of coffee she kept beside her. "I'll wake Fat Amy in an hour or so."

"You should sleep," Beca advised Chloe when the redhead got into a more comfortable sitting position instead of lying back down. "We've still got a long way to go."

"Take your own advice," Chloe shot back with a smile. "Go on, I'll watch the road."

Beca shook her head. "I don't like sleeping in front of other people," she said casually.

"What?" Chloe exclaimed bemusedly. Emily stirred and Chloe lowered her voice. "What kind of weird kink is _that_?"

"It's not a _kink_ ," scowled Beca. "It's a perfectly normal—"

"But how do you ever sleep at sleepovers? Or what if you have a roommate?"

"I don't like sleeping in front of people who are _awake_ ," clarified Beca. "It just doesn't sit well with me."

Chloe raised an eyebrow teasingly. "What, are you afraid I won't be able to stop myself from staring at you?"

It was Beca's turn to react bemusedly, and be completely nonplussed, at what Chloe had said. "I—what? No! Why would you even—? _You're_ the kinky one!"

"Shh! Relax!" Chloe giggled and swatted away Beca's accusatory finger. "Just so you know, I wouldn't mind if you'd been staring at me the whole time _I_ was asleep."

"You know what, maybe I _will_ go to sleep," huffed Beca. "At least you won't be this annoying in my dreams."

"Oh, so you dream about me?"

Beca blushed and was thankful that she had turned away from Chloe and pressed her face against the cool side of the van. To avoid the risk of further embarrassment, Beca didn't reply.

"Oh, come on, lighten up," said Chloe. "What's a little innocent flirting between friends?"

"There's no such thing as innocent flirting when you have a boyfriend."

Chloe leaned back, impressed at the line. "I didn't take you for a love guru, Becs."

"Stick around and maybe you'll see all my other talents," Beca said before she could help herself, and immediately cursed herself for taking part in Chloe's game.

"Well played," smirked Chloe.

Beca grasped at a distraction. "But, uh, speaking of Tom—how did he take you leaving with us hooligans?"

"Not well," Chloe answered with a sad smile. "He was never really invested in the idea of me being in a band so he was quite upset to find out that I was taking this more seriously than he thought."

"But… _are_ you serious about this?" Beca asked tentatively. "I mean, we're not forcing you to do anything, you know that, right? I know I—I said some things in Atlanta…" She rubbed her neck awkwardly to hide her embarrassment. "But if you wanted to stay, we would all respect that."

Chloe looked at her with an unreadable expression. "I know. And I know I was so ready to quit when I found out about Residual Heat but… I've done a lot of soul searching these past few days and I've decided. I'm serious about The Bellas." She looked down at her hands and clenched her fists. "It doesn't matter if I'm up there on stage with you or backstage worrying about your outfits—I just know that this… this is where I want to be."

Beca was silent for a moment, taking in how big of a decision it must have been for Chloe to leave—again, a situation that was vastly different from her own. Unlike Beca, Chloe had a functional family and a future open to many possibilities thanks to her father's connections. Music didn't _have_ to be her whole life, like it was for Beca's.

So Beca vowed to make Chloe's decision worth it. "Well, things turned out for the best, right?" she said, hoping to turn the conversation in a lighter direction. "I mean, your parents let you go. Tom _has_ to see things your way now."

"I don't know," Chloe shrugged thoughtfully. "At first I thought he was just siding with my dad to get on his good side, but lately I've been getting the impression that Tom thinks being in a band is tomboyish. You know, he once said the calluses on my fingers make me seem unladylike."

Beca scoffed and covered it with a fake cough. "Wow…"

Chloe threw a fond glance Aubrey's way and smiled. "Don't tell Aubrey I told you that though. If she knew, she would have told me to break up with him right that instant. Oh, and let me prepare you right now: you can't be friends with Aubrey and not expect to be treated to a lecture on The Female Stereotype _at least_ twice a month."

Beca chuckled softly and also looked over at the blonde. Even while asleep, Aubrey looked stiff, with her arms folded and her back straight as a ruler. The only indication that she was truly asleep was the occasional nodding into her chest. Beca could admit that, in spite of all her flaws (which might not even be flaws depending on who was looking) Aubrey was a decent person. She was tough and driven, which sometimes got in the way of compassion—even toward her closest friend.

"What are you thinking about?" Chloe asked, resting her head on the back of their seat, when neither had spoken for a while.

"Just… what the deal with Aubrey is."

Chloe understood from that one vague line what Beca meant. "She just has really high standards."

"I know. You said that before."

"That doesn't make her a bad person," she said with a slight defensiveness in her tone.

"I know that, too. I just want to understand why she does the things she does, or thinks the way she thinks," said Beca. "But you don't have to tell me… I just wonder sometimes how you two are best friends. You seem so different."

Chloe smiled mischievously. They were speaking so softly now that she had to sidle up closer to Beca. "What makes me so different?"

Beca rolled her eyes, knowing Chloe was up to. "I meant different _from each other_ ," she said. "And don't deflect."

"I wasn't," the redhead said unconvincingly. "Fine, how are _we_ different?"

"You're…" Beca scrunched her face, trying to think of a word. "…nice."

"Thanks," Chloe said with a roll of her eyes. "But Aubrey's nice, too. It just comes out differently. And she actually likes you."

"You're kidding."

Chloe shook her head. "She thinks you're an amazing drummer. It's just that you have a teeny tiny tendency to tick her off when you don't follow instructions. Sure, she can be controlling, but it's only because she wants things to be perfect." Chloe looked back at her friend. "You learn not to take anything personally with Aubrey; she only ever has one thing on her mind."

* * *

Despite her own rule of keeping two pairs of eyes on the road, Beca had fallen asleep in the middle of a debate over which instrument was hardest to learn, with her head leaning against the back of the seat, mirroring Chloe's sideways position. Awakened by the sun's rays coming through the windshield and hitting her eyelids, Beca straightened up and rubbed her sore neck. The windowless van was still dim on the inside so it was no surprise that everybody, except Fat Amy who was driving, was still asleep.

Glancing to her left, Beca saw the opportunity to take Chloe up on her offer to be stared at while she slept. Beca studied her face closely, from the small scar on her forehead to the way her lips were parted slightly—but then shook herself out of it after just a few seconds, unable to deny that no matter how satisfactory it felt, having this much freedom to ogle Chloe was still totally creepy.

* * *

 **OHIO**

A couple of hours later, The Barden Bellas found themselves at the Ohio State Fairgrounds, where a giant, outdoor stage was set up. Security personnel littered every corner and tour buses housing various performing artists were lined up in the parking lot. Dressed to the nines in matching blue and white outfits, the Bellas waited for their manager under a circular table umbrella.

"Stop fussing with it!" Chloe playfully slapped Beca's hand away from the drummer's collar.

"But my neck feels so exposed," whined Beca, not really caring how pathetic she sounded; Aubrey and Fat Amy were a couple of feet away and once again too preoccupied in an argument to notice them.

"Relax. A bear isn't going to come out of nowhere and attack _your neck_ ," Chloe said sarcastically while readjusting Beca's collar. "There. Perfect. You know, you're such a baby when it comes to clothes."

Beca glared at her in mock anger and defiantly flipped her collar up again. Chloe's jaw dropped and she flipped it back down, only to have Beca flip it up again immediately, which sparked their playful little wrestling match. Beca grabbed Chloe's wrists and held them away from her neck. Chloe squealed with laughter and twisted around, causing Beca to lose her grip and opt to pin Chloe's arms to her sides with a hug from behind instead.

"Hey, you two—quit it, this isn't the place for that," came Stacie's stern voice. Beca released Chloe at once and they turned to face Stacie with their heads bowed sheepishly.

"She started it!" Fat Amy said indignantly from behind them. Beca and Chloe whipped their heads around in confusion and saw Aubrey rolling her eyes.

"I was merely pointing out that it might not be such a good idea to eat three hotdogs before we go on stage," said Aubrey.

"Well, you didn't have to smack the fourth one out of my hands," grumbled Fat Amy.

Stacie took a deep breath and raised the cardboard box she was holding. "In any case, stop fighting and come here. I think you'll want to check this out," she said, walking over to their table and setting it down with a satisfied smirk. "This is a special moment for every recording artist, ladies."

Aubrey peeked inside the box and gasped. "It's our record!"

"That's right. Fresh off the…" Stacie paused, "wherever records are made. Anyway, I had Mr. Smith preorder them so they'd be ready by the time we got here."

"Wow," breathed Chloe, turning one over in her hands. "It's got a hole and grooves and everything!"

"This is so awesome!" cried Fat Amy.

Beca had to agree. It was one thing to hear your song on the local radio for thousands to hear; it was another, more out-of-this-world thing entirely to have an actual record of it in your hands to be sold across the country under the Residual Heat name.

"Hang on, you're missing someone," said Stacie, looking around at the group of girls gathered around her. "Where's Emily?"

"Oh, she went over to the Treblemakers' bus," Fat Amy said casually. "She's, like, a huge fan of them or something."

* * *

Emily cautiously approached the large bus decorated in red with yellow flames and the words 'Treblemakers' painted on the side. She gasped and held her breath when she saw it move ever so slightly.

The Treblemakers were _inside_.

She had half a mind to turn around and make a run for it, but her legs kept her inching closer and closer. Eventually, Emily was close enough to hear muffled voices coming from inside, and without a second thought she pressed her ear against the cool metal doors.

" _Emily!_ "

The bassist turned, with wide and guilty eyes, toward Aubrey, who had her hands on her hips and eyebrows raised so far up her head. "What are you _doing?_ "

"Th-the Treblemakers are in _this_ bus!" stuttered Emily.

"Yes, I can read," said Aubrey, nodding at the large text painted on side of the vehicle. "Overcompensating much?" she added under her breath.

Suddenly, the door to the bus opened with a hiss and a young man popped his head out curiously. "Ah," he said, smiling once he saw the two. "I thought I heard voices."

"Ohmygosh—Jesse Swanson!" gushed Emily, amid a few nervous giggles. "Hi! I can't believe I'm meeting you. You guys are awesome. I have your album and I listen to it _every day_."

Jesse's smile widened. "Thanks! You're into blues rock?"

"Oh yeah," Emily nodded fervently. "I play the bass in—"

"Hey, ho, hey!" A stocky, toad-like man appeared beside Jesse and hooked his arm around Jesse's neck. "You hoggin' all the groupies again, Swanson?"

Aubrey clenched her jaw and raised an eyebrow. " _Groupies?_ We are not your _groupies_ , you conceited little—"

"Whoa, okay—I am _so_ sorry about my friend here," Jesse quickly apologized, "he's more of an act-before-you-think kind of guy. Bumper, they're members of The Barden Bellas—the new group on the tour, remember?"

A wave of comprehension crossed over Bumper's face, after which he shrugged, said, "Well, I can't sleep with any of you then," and proceeded to get off the bus.

Jesse apologized again for Bumper's behavior and asked for their names. In the middle of their introductions, the last member of the Treblemakers trio appeared, wearing an embroidered 'TM' bathrobe and a towel around his head. He immediately pulled the towel off when he saw that they had company. "H-hi-lo," he stuttered. "Hi… Hello."

Jesse shot him an amused look before continuing the introductions. "Ladies, this is—"

"Benjamin Applebaum," finished Emily, almost vibrating with nervous energy. "Wow. Okay. I am _huge_ fan, Mr. Applebaum, sir—I play bass in our band, too! You're totally my idol so I'm only slightly freaking out right now."

Aubrey and Jesse turned to Emily's 'idol' and waited expectantly for his reply. Benjamin stood at the top of the steps, shell-shocked as though it were his first encounter with a fan.

"Gleff—pling shlargen—" He pursed his lips in embarrassment and froze up.

Jesse turned to the girls slowly. "Translation: 'Hi, you can call me Benji. Thank you and it is wonderful to meet you, Emily Junk. And Aubrey Posen,'" he added with a small bow toward the blonde.

"Ferbin—" Benji began, before realizing he was once again not saying any actual words. "Yah…"

"Good thing he sings better than he speaks, eh?" Jesse said good-naturedly to the two Bellas.

Aubrey raised an unimpressed eyebrow and said, "Well, we should be on our way. Stacie will be wondering where we are—"

"Oh, right, you're one of Stacie's, too!" Jesse cut in excitedly. "Do you mind if we tag along? We kind of owe her our career."

Aubrey clearly minded and wanted to tell him so, but Jesse was already leading the way toward the tables. She crossed her arms and glared at his back. "Come on, Em."

* * *

"… it's all proportionate—the bigger the person is, the bigger their stomach is and the more food they can handle," Fat Amy grumbled to herself, pouring melted cheese over a plate of nachos.

"Uh, are you talking to yourself?"

Fat Amy turned and saw a pudgy man squinting at her from the other end of the food table. "You see anyone else here?" she said flippantly before turning back to her nachos.

The man scowled, causing his face to scrunch up comically, as he watched her pile on another layer of corn chips. "If all of those are for you, then you're officially the grossest human being I have ever seen in my life."

"You're no panty-dropper yourself, mate."

He continued to squint at her for a beat, then—

"You wanna make out?"

Fat Amy exhaled and dropped her plate on the table, seemingly over a loss of appetite. "Look, boy, I know I've got _all this_ going on," she gestured around her frame, "but trust me, you can't handle the Fat Power."

"Fat Amy! Don't you _dare_ get any food on those clothes!" Stacie came stomping toward them. "Oh, hey, Bumper. I see you two have met. Amy, this is Bumper Allen from the Treblemakers. They're the first band I signed onto Residual Heat."

"You're welcome," Bumper said smugly.

Stacie rolled her eyes and took Fat Amy by the arm. "Let's go, you're the only Bella not in position!"

"Oh. You're one of those Bella girls?" frowned Bumper.

"Yep. And don't take this the wrong way but your moment in the sun is over, Bunker," said Fat Amy, grabbing one last chip before following Stacie. "The Bellas are taking over the tour now!"

"It's _Bumper_ and no, you're not!" he screeched after them.

* * *

The Bellas' first major performance after being officially signed under the Residual Heat banner would follow the label's opening act, the crooning styles of Freddie Fredrickson. It was hard not to forget that they were _performers_ and not spectators of the show; seeing artists they normally only heard on the radio pass them by kept halting them from making their way to the stage.

When the band climbed the steps toward the left wing of the stage eventually, the Bellas witnessed their manager do her job in her natural habitat for the first time.

"Come on, come on, come on!" Stacie beckoned them quickly up the steps and gathered them in a close circle. She pointed to a portly gentleman on the other side of the stage sniffing a cigar while his assistant wrote things down on a notepad. "You see that man? He's K. O. Bailey, Columbus' second most popular disc jockey." She turned back to them and held up their record. "If he likes what he hears, he's going to play _'That Thing You Do'_ tomorrow morning with fifty-thousand watts behind it."

"Does that mean we _shouldn't_ be a total mess, or…?"

Stacie ignored Fat Amy's sarcastic remark. "After the performance, you bow—in unison, okay? And you're off the stage before the applause dies out, got it? And for the love of God, _don't forget to unplug_ ," she added with a small shake of her head. "I've been burned before. Ah, there she is—you found them?"

Chloe sprinted up the steps behind them, nodding breathlessly. She grabbed Beca and spun her around. "Put these on," she said, unfolding Beca's pair of large, round, white sunglasses.

"What? I brought these as a joke—"

"Thi _s_ is your turtleneck sweater now, Becs," smiled Chloe, sliding them onto Beca's face carefully. "From now on, throughout all your shows, you're going to have them with you, okay?"

Chloe seemed to have forgotten that her hands were left resting on the sides of Beca's face—not that either minded—until Stacie got Beca's attention. "In other words, they're your trademark," she said before pointing to Emily. "Em, you got your pick with you?"

"Right here," Emily said proudly.

"Excellent." Stacie turned around as Fredrickson's outro began drawing a round of applause. "All right, kids, this is it. Timing is everything on the entrance—" She dragged the girls into various positions. "Okay, remember to _smile_! Even if the crowd doesn't go wild for you, don't worry about it, 'cause they definitely will tomorrow—now, go, go, go!"

There was a fair amount of applause as The Barden Bellas got into position on stage. Beca exhaled as she sat down on the stool and adjusted her glasses, lowering them slightly so she could fully see the turnout.

It wasn't as large as the Koss show. Though the audience was a lot more receptive given the absence of technical issues, it still didn't shake away the tiny sliver of nervousness they all felt playing for the first time since the disaster in Atlanta. Beca turned to her left and searched for those pools of blue where she had found her courage the night of the talent show.

Chloe smiled knowingly from the wings and gave her that same wink. Beca instantly felt her shoulders relax and she found it difficult to look away. But eventually she readjusted her sunglasses and began their hit song's signature drum intro.

* * *

Their performance went spectacularly well and in the aftermath, thanks to some additional coaxing from Stacie, K.O. Bailey had not only played _'That Thing You Do'_ over the airwaves the next day, he had even talked it up to his disc jockey friends across the state. So by the following afternoon, The Barden Bellas could be heard on most Ohio radio stations _at least_ twice a day—and their reach was growing.

They were getting ready to leave for Indiana two days and one performance later when Fat Amy asked a rather important question. "Hey, how are we getting our skinny asses to Indiana?"

Beca exchanged equally blank looks with Aubrey, who was poring over some music sheets with Chloe, who in turn shrugged in response.

"Stacie just said to have our bags packed by nine o'clock," yawned Emily. She was lying across the small bed with her feet propped on top of her suitcase and her eyes half-closed.

"It's already eleven-thirty," frowned Aubrey. "Where could she be?"

"Maybe we're taking some sort of midnight train…"

Just then, an obnoxious and melodic honking came from the motel's parking lot caught their attention. Fat Amy roughly pulled the thin curtains aside and cursed. "Aw, hell no."

Beca moved to Fat Amy's other side and saw the familiar red and yellow bus. Bumper was leaning out the driver's seat window and pressing his chubby palm against the horn repeatedly until Jesse apparently asked him to stop.

A knock on the door had all five girls turn their heads toward it as Stacie let herself in, wearing a provocatively tight sweater that went well with her apologetic expression. "So there was a bit of a problem with the transportation arrangements," she said. "We couldn't get you girls your own tour bus since, well, you're new—"

"So we're sharing with the Treblemakers?" whined Fat Amy.

Emily shot upright, suddenly wide awake and very red in the face.

"Is this going to be permanent throughout the tour?" Aubrey asked before the younger brunette could say anything. "I mean there are five of us; we take up a lot of space."

" _A lot_ ," nodded Fat Amy.

"Don't worry, we'll look into getting your own bus soon," assured Stacie, opening the door behind her to begin ushering them out into the hallway.

"Can you look into getting us our own beds, too?" Beca grumbled as she passed Stacie. "It's hard to sleep in constant fear of being crushed to death."

"Well, we had to put the biggest and the tiniest together to maximize space," teased Chloe, putting her fingers close together to emphasize just how tiny Beca was.

"We still could have fit if _Aubrey_ just let Fat Amy have the couch," Beca said loudly enough for the blonde to hear. But Aubrey ignored her and hurried down the hallway, probably to get to the Treble bus first and call dibs on the best bunk.

* * *

When they arrived at the Treble bus, however, it seemed Bumper was feeling less than generous, since he had taken up two out of the only four bunk beds, claiming he needed the top bunk for his very precious and very sensitive… drum sticks.

"Come on, Bumper, don't be a jerk," warned Stacie.

"Yeah, the three of us can alternate between the driver's seat and the couch," Jesse said before graciously adding, "You ladies can take the bunks, if you don't mind sharing, that is. It'll be a pretty tight fit but I—"

"There's no need," Aubrey cut in shortly, proceeding to lug her suitcase further into the tour bus. "Novi is only a few hours' drive; we can manage. Can't we, girls?"

Chloe threw a glance behind her, to where Beca was trying her best to keep Emily upright as the bassist was nodding off to sleep. "Um, maybe one bunk wouldn't be so bad," she said sheepishly.

Jesse grinned. "No worries."

Benji immediately moved out of the way and helped Beca rest a half-conscious Emily down on his bed, making sure she wouldn't hit her head against the divider between his and Jesse's bunks. While checking if her bandmate's long limbs were securely within the bedframe, Beca noticed a number of _Star Trek_ posters wallpapering the space against the bed. There were also miniature action figures decorating a flat surface above Emily's sleeping head.

Meanwhile, Aubrey's suitcase hit a bump on its way to the luggage area of the bus.

"Here, let me take that," began Jesse, reaching out as Aubrey pulled stubbornly at the handle of her bag.

"No, thank you," she said firmly.

Stacie rolled her eyes and said, "Jeez, just let him help you! He's not abolishing women's rights by carrying your luggage."

On the other end of the bus, Bumper and Fat Amy were busy butting heads—literally. Their foreheads were pressed against each other and their faces scrunched up in annoyance as they fought over the steering wheel with Chloe as their reluctant mediator.

" _I_ drive faster; I can get us there in half the time!" snarled Fat Amy.

"But this is _my_ bus so tough!" retorted Bumper.

"Get this through your thick potato head: I don't want spend a second more than I need to in this tin can with you—so let _me_ drive, you lump of spoiled vanilla pudding!"

"Oh, great insults!" Bumper said sarcastically. "Of course _food_ is the first thing your mind goes to—"

"Guys, please!" hissed Chloe. "Quiet down! Look, why don't you two just alternate—?"

" _No!_ " they both yelled in unison, releasing their head butt to glare at Chloe.

"Bumper, Fat Amy—shut up and sit down," ordered Stacie, finally coming back from the luggage area with the others. " _I'm_ going to drive the whole way, and you two better make nice by the time we get to Indiana or else."

"Or else what?" they said, again in unison.

"I'll replace the snack bar with a salad bar and deny all groupies backstage access," she threatened Fat Amy and Bumper, respectively. The two grumbled and sat on cushioned chairs opposite each other with their arms crossed.

"You're traveling with us?" Chloe asked in surprise, when Stacie took her place in the driver's seat and buckled up. "I thought you'd be in some private car with the other managers or something."

"I'm your manager, not your investor," replied Stacie, shifting gears. "I'm supposed to help you become successful recording artists. How am I supposed to do that if I don't spend time with you and get to know you?"

Chloe looked over at Aubrey and gave her a knowing nod as if to say, "See? She knows what she's doing." Aubrey merely gave a small shrug and turned back to frown slightly at Jesse, who was now striking up a conversation with Beca using his charmingly goofy grin.

Chloe followed Aubrey's gaze and caught Beca giving Jesse one of her signature smirks after he must have said something funny. Chloe felt an unexpected twitch somewhere in her chest and suddenly wished that Stacie would find the Bellas their own tour bus soon.

* * *

 **Response to Reviews:**

 **jalex1** **(May 12)** \- Thank you! I'm glad to see more love for TTYD! I feel like it has sort of an underground following – like, you don't know someone's a fan until you ask them outright haha. Thanks for dropping a review!

 **Guest reader** **(May 12)** \- Thank you! I love Guy and Faye together, too! They're both such dorks (esp. in that "Get out. What'd she say?" "I don't know" scene after their first show at Villapiano's and pretty much every scene they have together!) like we all imagine Beca and Chloe to be. I'm keeping the relationship plot line as close to Guy and Faye's as I can given the circumstances. ;)

 **Bechloe fanatic** **(May 12)** \- THANK YOU! I AM SO SORRY FOR KEEPING YOU WAITING FOR THIS UPDATE! THE NEXT ONE IS ALREADY WRITTEN SO I WON'T DO IT AGAIN! LOL.

 **Guess** **(May 12** ) - Not a compliment I was expecting but that makes it all the better! Yeah, Koss was really in a league of his own in terms of being an ass. I mean, John is a misogynist sure but at least he has a sense of humor. Thanks! I try to throw in as much references as I can to keep the same tone. This and the upcoming chapters might get a bit less upbeat compared to the movie though. And yes! I almost hesitated putting Emily in because of the age difference but The Bass Player was kind of cute and childish anyway so why not? I crushed on Liv Tyler, too! Mostly because of LOTR but she was gorgeous in TTYD, too. She and Brittany Snow can totally play the girl-next-door love-of-your-life kind of character imo. Thank you for your message! I feel good about my choices now haha.

 **Psychic Guest** **(May 12)** \- I feel like it's been a while since our last review conversation (reversation?). Haha I knew Stacie would elicit that reaction from you. (That's all I'm going to say about Stacie since her parts were not lifted directly from the movie and doing so would count as a spoiler haha.) Yes, surgery is possible and will be addressed in the next chapter. More Bechloe flirting here and in the next chapter! Thanks again for reviewing! P.S. on Civil War: Exactly. The Accords don't work well in practice because a lot of what superheroes do isn't always within the sphere of reality LOL. Scarlet Witch is undoubtedly badass and now that Chloe is starting to get her powers back (at a cost though) we can see if she is just as badass. :D

 **pineappletini** **(May 15)** \- In that case, thank you for giving this a try! I liked the movie's overall tone: it was light and funny with the appropriate amount of drama and romance (well, for Jeca fans I'm guessing), kind of like PP. I think that similarity is what prompted me to write this. Thank you for reading and dropping a review! It means a lot. (And regarding Civil War, I love how most people choose the vigilante/outcast side. Haha! I honestly want Beca to do the same but I'm waiting for the right motivation to trigger it.)

 **Coming up next...** is the montage part of the movie, so we'll be seeing short scenes spanning their tour across the Midwest. I'll post it probably before the weekend so I can spend that time catching up on some of my other stories. Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter Seven

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

 **INDIANA**

The Bellas were woken up in their hotel room hours later by the sound of the door banging against its latch.

"What the—? Wake up, Bellas!" Stacie called through the space that had opened. She continued hollering and knocking until, one by one, the Bellas trudged out of the two bedrooms to let their manager in.

"Jeez, she's almost as uptight as Aubrey is in the mornings," mumbled Emily.

"Hey!"

"Sorry. You are still the most uptight of us all."

"That's not what the 'hey' was for!"

Beca yawned and sidled up to Chloe, resting her elbow on the redhead's shoulder. "I thought being on a rock and roll tour would mean sleeping in more. I can't—what the heck is _that_?"

"What, what is it?" cried Chloe, worriedly patting her hair down to adjust her bed head, not realizing that the thing in question was in her other hand.

"Please tell me you won that at the fair," Beca said, pointing at the teddy bear in a red plaid winter coat being clutched to Chloe's chest.

"What's wrong with Christopher?" pouted Chloe, holding up the stuffed animal and waving it in Beca's face. Beca could see much evidence of wear and tear—frayed ends of its cotton jacket, patches of worn out fake fur, and a missing beady black eye. The bear was clearly an ancient childhood artifact.

Meanwhile, Emily had finally let Stacie in and closed the door after her to avoid further angering their neighbors with Stacie's loudness.

"Thought you might like to see this," their manager said, trying to hold back a smile. Stacie handed Aubrey an open magazine and the girls gathered around it curiously. "Number 93."

It took a second—and an additional second for Emily—for the girls to realize that they were staring at Billboard's Top 100 list, and right there, in bold red letters, was " _That Thing You Do_."

They all screamed and hopped up and down to release their ecstasy in a sudden burst of energy. The Bellas knew their song was being played all throughout Ohio as they left and had even reached some neighboring states, but they had no idea that in just a few short days it would be recognized _nationwide_ as one of the top 100 songs in the country.

"Woo!" cheered Chloe, after releasing Beca from a hug. Then, as payback for mocking her precious Christopher, she proceeded to pepper Beca's face with "kisses" from her bear.

"Argh! Get him off me!" Beca acted as though it was the grossest thing ever before snatching Christopher away and having Chloe chase her around their hotel room in a fit of happy giggles. They didn't notice Stacie raising an eyebrow in their direction as Beca jumped over the couch while Emily and Aubrey continued gushing over their achievement.

In the middle of the Bellas' celebration, the door opened once again and Fat Amy came in looking half-sheepish and half-amused at the sight of the girls all hugging and smiling. "What's going on?"

Aubrey frowned in confusion. "I thought you were still asleep. Where have you been?"

"A couple doors down the hall," she replied casually. "I'm going to show that smug-ass Bumper who can get the most—"

"Okay!" Aubrey cut her off while Chloe quickly covered Emily's ears.

"Get the most what?" the young brunette yelled loudly over her hearing impairment. "If it's 'hit songs' then we're one step closer to beating the Trebles!"

"What are you on about?"

Aubrey handed Fat Amy the magazine and thus began another round of yelling, hugging, and jumping.

* * *

Their high spirits were infectious, and the yelling and jumping didn't stop with them; their first performance at the Indiana State Fair was so full of energy and excitement that even the crowd jumped up and down from their entrance to their exit. Even outside their performances, the Bellas were blowing up. As their popularity caught up and eventually preceded them, the music and entertainment sections of local newspapers and magazines started wanting in on the newest stars of the Residual Heat label.

Their wave of happiness only gained more height as Stacie was able to pull through on her promise and get them their own tour bus. Granted, it wasn't as lavish as the Trebles' but the fact that they would have privacy for the rest of the tour was a gift for all but one Bella.

* * *

 **ILLINOIS**

The Barden Bellas' hit, " _That Thing You Do,_ " continued to climb the charts, reaching number 71 while they were in Springfield, Illinois. Their fans continued to grow proportionately with the number of times they'd been stopped in the middle of the street to sign autographs and take pictures. And, thanks to Stacie foreseeing the need for Chloe, the Bellas were also steadily becoming quite the fashion icons, which only boosted their popularity. More women, they noticed, were beginning to wear sunglasses even on cloudy days.

Life on a Rock and Roll Midwest State Fair Tour was not 'all work and no play' as Aubrey had hoped, nor was it all fun and games like the others did. Time spent not performing live in front of hundreds or thousands of people was spent practicing or arranging new songs to play. Aubrey and Chloe had written a variety of pieces way back when, but the all-female band was becoming known for their romantic lyrics and Stacie told them to go with it for now.

"We can work on original, new music when the tour's done," she repeatedly assured Aubrey. "Right now, we're capitalizing on the tour to skyrocket your song to number one."

They had their evenings to themselves and, amid the band's success and the exhilaration of being well on their way to "making it," even someone like Aubrey was willing to let loose. Stacie herself transitioned seamlessly from meticulous manager by day to party girl by night, leading the Bellas to some age-appropriate fun with the rest of the Residual Heat company of artists.

One such night was spent at the state fair carnival. They made it a point to enjoy themselves at every fair they performed at, and Illinois was no exception. After being entertained by a corndog eating contest with Fat Amy emerging as the undisputed winner and Bumper the sore, second-place loser, Aubrey asked Chloe to accompany her to the restroom, which left Beca and Emily to hang around with the other two Trebles while Stacie chatted with one of the other Residual Heat managers.

"Hey," Jesse nudged Beca with his elbow, "let's play a game of 'Which Pair of Our Band Mates Is Going to Hook Up First.'" He nodded his head to their left, where, in the distance, Fat Amy and Bumper were now fighting over the mallet of a high striker, and then to their right, where Benji was clearing his throat and taking deep breaths to gather enough courage to speak to Emily, who was eyeing the multicolored cotton candy at a nearby stall.

"First of all, _those_ two," Beca nodded toward the arguing pair, "have some sort of 'around-the-Midwest-in-eighty-lays' competition going on so their hooking up is unlikely. And second of all, gross. Dude, Emily's sixteen."

"Oh, shoot, I forgot." Jesse shook his head. "I still can't believe someone that young is on tour with us."

"Tell me about it. That's why we gotta look out for her," said Beca, stuffing her hands in her pockets and subconsciously glancing toward the restrooms for the third time.

Jesse shoved his own hand into his pocket and fished out some loose change. He reached across Beca and stuffed the money in Benji's hands. "Get her the cotton candy," he advised and clapped him on the back hard enough to usher him forward.

Beca raised her eyebrow at Jesse once Benji was safely out of hearing distance.

"Benji's a good guy," Jesse shrugged with an assuring smile. "Socially awkward but pretty much harmless. He can keep an eye out for Emily when you girls just want to have fun."

"If you think _paying_ someone to distract Emily is going to impress—"

"We're back!" Chloe chirped loudly from five yards away as she and Aubrey approached. "What were you guys whispering about?"

"Nothing," Beca and Jesse answered in unison.

Beca didn't want either of them to see Benji and Emily together and think that she had a part in encouraging him, so she took a step to the side to block their view of the two now currently enjoying a rainbow of sweet cotton candy together.

Aubrey and Chloe, however, took Beca's very conspicuous step as a sign of guilt and as a deliberate distancing between herself and Jesse, and both frowned suspiciously at the two of them.

Jesse was quick to notice Chloe's clenching jaw and quickly pointed behind her. "So what do you ladies want to ride first? I'm liking the look of those spinning egg shells that blast you upward and then throw you into a giant pool of plastic balls."

The two best friends instinctively turned around to look to where Jesse was pointing and while they were distracted trying to find the nonexistent ride, Jesse handed Beca a bunch of quarters. "Your girl looks pissed. Better win her a stuffed animal or something."

* * *

 **WISCONSIN**

' _That Thing You Do_ ' crossed Billboard's halfway mark and reached number 49 while they were in Wisconsin. By that point, the Bellas were mildly famous crowd favorites during the state fair concerts and had been bumped up from being the second act of the Residual Heat line up to the prime spot later in the show.

Moving from hotel room to hotel room every week left the Bellas with a lot of forwarded mail chasing them, so Stacie had both her bands stay in Milwaukee a bit longer to give them time to prepare for the upcoming Minnesota state fair—the "biggest in the world"—where they would be headlining the entire show, and to respond to letters from their family.

Beca woke up the morning after their last show, late but still earlier than Emily with whom she shared the room, and walked out to the kitchen. She saw a pile of letters on the counter that Stacie must have dropped off earlier and sifted through them until she got to the ones addressed to her.

Two were from her family; one from each of her parents. Her mother wrote a lengthy sermon about how being across the Atlantic didn't mean the end of her existence and right to be informed of her daughter's activities, which ended with an equally lengthy praise for Beca's talent and determination. The one from her father wished her luck at the beginning before quickly turning into a description for the scandal she left Barden with—Beca stopped reading at that point and folded the letter back into its envelope.

The last two letters were from her former band mates. She still kept the last one unopened in her bag and, for some reason, Beca couldn't bring herself to open any—much less now that word about the Barden Bellas had likely reached Maine.

The door opening brought Beca out of her guilty thoughts and into _other_ guilty thoughts as Chloe entered their hotel room with her hair in a ponytail and her face lightly pink and shiny from her morning run. "Oh, hey," she greeted Beca with a smile. "You're up early."

"Ten-thirty is early?" Beca smirked, subconsciously covering the letter from her former band mates. "Did you get your mail?"

"Mhm." Chloe nodded on her way to the fridge for a bottle of water. "You get anything interesting?"

Beca quickly glanced down at the unopened letters and shuffled them behind the ones from her parents. "Nope. You?"

Chloe wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Nope."

"Okay, then." Beca bobbed her head awkwardly. "Life goes on."

Chloe chuckled. She stood there for a while, staring at nothing, with her bottom lip between her teeth. Beca tried to keep her eyes away from the redhead's general direction, but no matter how many times she lowered her gaze, it just shot back up. Chloe was just too magnetic—especially in her current state of... glistening... warm...

Beca and Chloe simultaneously shook themselves forcefully out of their daydreaming, neither noticing the other's mirroring action. Chloe gestured toward the bathroom. "Well, I'm gonna go shower."

"Have fun," Beca nodded, before mentally smacking herself for that ridiculous comment. Chloe just giggled and disappeared into her bedroom.

* * *

 **MINNESOTA**

"… the trick to getting that perfect riff to sort of keep your fingers spread out."

Benji was sitting on the Bellas' carpeted hotel room floor beside Emily, with both their instruments on their laps, while the rest of their band mates went out for a night of drinks to celebrate ' _That Thing You Do'_ reaching an astounding number 21 on the Hot 100 list.

"Like... this?" Emily said tentatively, covering almost four frets between her index and pinky fingers.

"Yeah, but also you gotta relax," Benji said with a light chuckle. He picked at one of Emily's claw-like fingers and waggled it around to loosen it up. "Wow, you have really… s-soft, really nice fingers."

Emily blushed and spread both hands out in front of her. "You don't think they look like pale white spider legs?" she asked, curling her fingers creepily.

Benji shook his head with a grin. "No, I think they look quite elegant actually," he said, then ducked his head in embarrassment.

Emily was over the moon by the compliment from her idol and took a shaky, exhilarated breath. "Thank you so much, Benji," she said. "For everything, really—the advice, the lessons—I've learned so much from you these past couple of weeks."

"You were already an amazing bass player," said Benji, "especially for someone self-taught. So all of this—it's all you. You and your incredible talent."

"Stop or you'll make my ego explode!" laughed Emily, shoving him playfully on the shoulder. "I can't afford to be overconfident at _the_ biggest state fair in the country."

"Just relax. Everyone in the Midwest—and soon the entire country—already loves the Bellas."

"But that's exactly what I'm nervous about," confessed Emily. "We've had such an unbelievable streak of luck throughout this whole tour, I just get this feeling that something bad is bound to happen."

"Don't think about that; just go out there and have fun," said Benji. "It's just like any other show, right?"

"I guess you're right," nodded Emily, though she still looked nervous.

* * *

Beca had joined her older band mates at some local bar Stacie found. The girls had planned it to be a low-key night of hanging out and celebrating their chart-rising song, but word had gotten around quickly about The Barden Bellas being there, so within the first thirty minutes the pub had filled up with fans.

Beca was nodding at a young woman gushing about how she had been inspired to take up playing the drums, which was something she always thought would make her an outcast among her girlfriends, after finding out about the all-female Barden Bellas. This wasn't the first time Beca was hearing this type of inspirational story but while she _was_ glad to be changing societal expectations of women in music, she was feeling drained. She just wanted to relax, sit down, and have a drink with…

Beca looked across the room, past a couple of heads, and saw Chloe sitting at the bar. At first, Beca thought she was alone (which gave her heart a small ache, since alone almost always meant lonely) but, when someone previously blocking Beca's line of sight moved, she saw that Stacie was with her. The two were talking and, by the looks on their faces, the topic was rather serious.

"I'm going to get a drink," Beca said automatically, not taking her eyes off of the women at the bar. Thinking it would discourage her fan from following, she followed up by asking, "Do you want anything?"

Her plan backfired, however, when the woman smiled and happily said, "I'll have whatever you're having. Thanks, Beca."

Scratching her ear awkwardly, Beca mumbled an "Okay" and weaved through the small crowd to get to the bar.

On her way, she passed Aubrey, who was stuck in a booth flanked by fans on both sides of her. Beca would have shot her a sympathetic grimace if the blonde wasn't enjoying the fact that her supporters loved listening to her go on about the music she was planning for the Bellas after the tour. So instead Beca threw her a quick smile and carried on.

Circling around a group that had rallied around Bumper and Fat Amy's arm-wrestling contest, Beca then ran into Jesse.

"Hey," he said breathlessly, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds. "I just got away from some really _friendly_ fans."

Beca smirked at his predicament. "What did you tell them?"

"Said I had to run to the bathroom and rub ointment in some places."

"I'm sure the tabloids will work that into wonders for your sex life."

"That's kind of why I came looking for you," he said, swinging an arm around her shoulders and, to her dismay, dragging her farther from the bar. "We've known each other a long time, right?"

"Thirty-two days," she replied dryly.

"That's what I'm saying—we're like best bros now," continued Jesse, gesturing between the two of them. "And _as_ best bros, we help each other out, right? I mean I help you with Chloe all the time."

Beca only raised an eyebrow.

"And I hate to be _that_ guy but I think it's time you return the favor."

Beca rolled her eyes and sighed. "What do you want?"

"It appears my gentlemanly charm and charisma isn't working on her," he said, nodding toward the booth Beca had just passed. "Is she not into that? I mean, what do I have to do to get her to notice me?"

"I think she already notices you," Beca said unenthusiastically. As much as she enjoyed watching Jesse try and fail these past few weeks to get Aubrey interested in him, she didn't actually want to play the active role of matchmaker.

"Rolling her eyes and scoffing aren't exactly what I had in mind by 'noticing.'"

"Look," Beca began distractedly, "Aubrey has kind of a one-track mind; she's really focused on finishing this tour and making it big in music. Nothing can distract her from that so maybe you should just accept that."

Instead of wearing a disappointed expression as Beca expected him to, Jesse's face split into a mischievous grin and he clapped her on the shoulder gratefully. "Thanks for the advice, bro."

"What adv—? You know what, I don't even care." Beca slipped out of Jesse's hold and made her way back to her intended destination. Sadly, Chloe had already vacated her seat at the bar by the time Beca got there. Stacie, however, was still sipping her drink while going over her date book.

"Hey," the Bellas' manager greeted, looking up when Beca took Chloe's seat. "Having fun?"

"Not really. There's kind of a lot of people here."

Stacie nodded understandingly. "It's good for publicity, though." When Beca merely shrugged she added, "Don't worry. LA is _much_ chiller than here—figuratively speaking, of course. Everyone there is practically already a celebrity or trying to be one. You won't get hassled this much in public after the tour, I promise you that."

Beca nodded slowly, wondering how best to approach her problem. In the end, she decided that diving right into it was the way to go with Stacie. "Um, hey, where'd Chloe go?"

"Oh, she, uh..." Stacie deliberately turned away from her and closed her book. "She decided to call it a night. No biggie."

"What? But we only just got here—" Beca was already rising to catch up to Chloe when Stacie pulled her arm to sit her back down.

"Look, Beca, professional advice: give her some space," she said. "I'm sure she appreciates your concern but I really think she ought to be by herself tonight."

Beca paused to digest Stacie's words, but no matter how she looked at it, there was no reason she would ever do what Stacie wanted her to. She shook her head and said honestly, "That makes no sense to me. If Chloe's upset, then the _last_ thing someone who cares about her would do is to leave her alone."

Stacie smiled lightly at Beca's indignation. "That would kind of depend on her wanting to be alone, too, don't you think?"

Beca chewed the inside of her cheek but begrudgingly had to see Stacie's point. She rested her elbows on the bar once more and asked, "What were you even talking about that made her so upset?"

"She's not upset, she's just…" Stacie had difficulty finding the appropriate word. "Apprehensive?"

Beca raised an eyebrow again and Stacie shifted uncomfortably in her stool. "She didn't want me to tell anyone, but since you asked me directly," she began reluctantly, "I scheduled her an appointment with an ENT surgeon in Minneapolis. Every manager I've spoken to in the business says he's the best guy to go to for nodes removal surgery."

"That's… great! Isn't it?" Beca frowned. "Why wouldn't she want to tell us?"

"Because she didn't want to get your hopes up and make a big deal out of it. And since I've spilled the beans I want you to understand something." Stacie turned and raised her finger seriously. "Chloe's surgery is for her health, and _not_ so she can start singing again—"

"Of course," Beca said quickly. The latter hadn't even crossed her mind. "This is good for her regardless; she's been having a tough time with her throat. When's the surgery?"

"Tomorrow."

Beca nodded and did a double take. " _Tomorrow_? We're playing tomorrow."

Granted, Chloe wasn't _literally_ performing with the four on stage at the biggest state fair in the country, but not having her there was out of the question. Chloe had been to each and every one of their shows, cheering them on and singing (sometimes only mouthing) along from the wings.

Stacie shrugged apologetically. "It was the only schedule the doctor could make at a moment's notice that fit ours. Besides, it's at the crack of dawn so there's a chance she could be discharged in time for the show."

Beca nodded again and leaned back on the bar. She could feel Stacie's eyes on her and waited for the inevitable question.

"So... do you mind telling me what the deal is between you two?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean your whole relationship—chasing each other around hotel rooms, spending all your free time together... giving her that _necklace_ at the carnival?" Stacie added with a knowing smirk.

"It was made of candy," Beca defended in response to that last item, choosing not to mention that the necklace was a consolation prize for her unsuccessful attempt to win the giant stuffed bear which Chloe had insisted she didn't want on account of Christian possibly getting jealous.

It was Stacie's turn to respond with a raised, disbelieving eyebrow so Beca rolled her eyes and added, "We're friends. Of course I like spending time with her."

"Do you want to be _more_ than friends?" Stacie asked bluntly.

"She has a boyfriend."

Stacie cocked her head in confusion. "She's still with Tom?"

"Well, yeah, I assume she is." Beca looked at her. "Why, did she say anything to you?"

Stacie shook her head. " _I_ just assumed, you know, leaving Barden and all, that Tom was one of those things in the rear-view mirror."

Beca had just opened her mouth to reply when she felt an angry tap on her shoulder. They both turned and saw the young woman Beca was speaking to earlier. Her arms were folded and her face glowed with annoyance. "Are you still ordering or what?"

* * *

It was still dark out when Beca awoke in time to catch Chloe just about ready to leave for the hospital under the guise of going shopping for the Bellas' new outfits. Stacie, who was assisting her on the trip along with one of the interns, saw Beca emerge from her bedroom and greeted her.

"Chloe, maybe you should get a jacket. I hear it's pretty chilly out there this early in the morning," advised Stacie, gesturing at Beca to approach when Chloe nodded and headed back to her room. "She's feeling a bit nervous," she whispered. "This is her first surgery and she's got no family around her."

"Oh," Beca said lamely.

Stacie grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around. "Go do your thing and comfort her!"

"How? She doesn't know that I know!"

"You'll figure it out!"

Beca knocked softly on Chloe's half-open bedroom door, being careful not to wake Aubrey on the bed nearest to her. Chloe turned away from the wardrobe and smiled. "Don't worry, I won't forget to get you more turtlenecks," she jokingly whispered.

Beca only smiled. Chloe noticed her hesitant expression and asked if something was wrong. "I'm just nervous I guess," she replied, thinking on her feet.

"About tonight?"

"Yeah… I mean, it's the biggest—"

"—state fair in the country," Chloe finished. "Yeah. Their marketing team did a pretty good job making it known how _big_ it is, and it's got everyone pretty rattled. Aubrey especially; she was stirring all night."

Beca spared a glance toward the blonde. Aubrey did look quite tired despite being fast asleep. She tried to imagine how Aubrey would handle the situation Beca was in; Aubrey would probably tell Chloe to look past the surgery and focus on the benefit of having her nodes removed. But that would entail _knowing_ what Chloe was worried about.

"You know, when I was a kid my mom told me this trick to get rid of nerves," said Beca, pulling the anecdote out of thin air. "She said saying your fears out loud helps you realize how petty or easily overcome they can be."

Chloe folded the jacket she picked over her elbow. "That works?"

"Wanna try it with me?"

"Hmm. Okay. You first."

"I'm afraid…"

Beca had planned to say something bland and untrue, like how she was nervous about screwing up in front of thousands of people—which she wasn't anymore after having performed perfectly several times over the past month—but something in her gut told her that if she wanted to get a genuine response from Chloe, she had to give one herself.

"I'm afraid of not doing anything meaningful with my life," she found herself confessing. "Maybe that's why I wanted so badly to go against the current and become a musician. Maybe showing the world I can be great on my own terms is the way I can make my life meaningful."

There was a pause wherein Chloe and Beca only stared into each other's eyes—Beca feeling vulnerable and open in front of Chloe for the second time in her life; Chloe appreciating the gesture and wanting to reciprocate.

"I'm afraid I've spent so many years trying to please everybody and be who they wanted me to be that I no longer know who I really am."

Beca blinked in surprise. It wasn't the response she had expected–for one thing, it had nothing to do with the surgery–but before she could ask or say anything to help her understand, Chloe was already closing the distance between them on her way out the door.

Chloe paused just before she passed Beca, hesitated, and said, "Thank you for trying to calm my nerves. I... am really lucky to have you in my life."

Beca's breath caught in her throat when Chloe leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the cheek. It was a friendly kiss, a see-you-later kind of kiss that was admittedly the highest form of affection two friends might share but it was innocent nonetheless—at least, that was what Beca told herself as she watched Chloe leave.

* * *

Emily was pacing in the Bellas' tent behind the stage, curling and uncurling her fingers nervously. She had played their hit songs dozens of times over the past couple of weeks but the nervous energy surrounding her seemed to turn her fingers into stiff clay. She also kept adjusting her guitar strap, which for some reason felt awkward and itchy on her collarbone.

A tap on her shoulder caused her to spin around. She gasped in surprise when she saw Benji, dressed in the Trebles' signature dark red with his bass strapped on. Emily thought his hair was done up in a way that looked really, really good on him—but she shouldn't be focusing on that.

"You guys are on already?" she wailed, as it meant that the Bellas were only one and a half performances away from being on stage.

"Relax, you'll be awesome," he assured kindly. "We share a hotel, remember? We could hear you girls rehearsing 24/7. Trust me, just play your heart out and everything will be great."

Emily's eyes shined with gratitude. Outside the tent, near the foot of the steps that led to the performers' assembly area, Stacie blew a whistle with her fingers and called out for the Trebles.

"I should head backstage," said Benji. "But before I go let me just—"

Emily's eyes widened when Benji took a step closer. Second guessing what he planned to do, she leaned forward and preemptively planted a kiss on his lips. After a few seconds, however, she sensed that something was wrong and she pulled back sheepishly.

"I'm sorry, we you—?"

"I w-was… going to..." Benji's face was bright red when he cleared his throat awkwardly and adjusted Emily's strap for her. It now fit perfectly. "B-but thank you—"

"Hey, Benji, you ready?"

They both jumped in surprise and turned to see Jesse and Beca standing side by side at the entrance of the tent, one looking quite smug while the other was giving Emily a pointed look.

"Um, yeah." Benji gave Emily a shy smile before following Jesse out and away from the tent.

When the boys left, Emily let out a giddy squeal and twirled with her hands to her chest. "Isn't he the sweetest?" she said dreamily.

"Aubrey's not gonna like this at all," Beca said with a knowing smirk. She herself had no problem with this development; if any two people deserved to be with each other it would be Emily and Benji.

"Chloe will back me up," Emily said, lifting her chin indignantly, though she didn't seem too bothered by what Aubrey might think. "Where is Chloe anyway?"

A shadow fell over Beca's features and the drummer was careful not to let the ecstatic Emily see. "She's still out running some errands."

Emily's face fell nonetheless. "Is she on her way back? She can't miss our performance!"

"I know—"

The flaps of the tent were suddenly pulled apart once more and Stacie entered with Aubrey. "Look, I can't do anything about the backup dancers _now_ ," she was telling the irritated Bella. "It's for the spectacle, all right? You girls are huge now and deserve a huge show—embrace it!"

"It's _degrading_ ," argued Aubrey. "It makes our music seem all about the glamour— _and_ it sexualizes women!"

"Hey, Stacie, where's Chloe?" asked Emily, cutting into the argument.

"She should be in a cab on her way here right now. She wouldn't miss this for the world," Stacie assured the youngest Bella while giving Beca a triumphant nod to signal that the surgery had gone well. "In the meantime, you girls should—where the hell has Fat Amy gone _this_ time?"

"Here, I'm here!" came the Australian's cry, bursting through the back entrance of the tent. Her clothes were a bit ruffled and her make-up was slightly off.

Recalling that the performers' food table was on the opposite side of the grounds from where the guitarist came from, Stacie narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "What were you _doing_?"

Aubrey and Beca groaned as they predicted what Fat Amy was going to say in reply to Stacie's perfect set up.

"Number thirty-five—whaddup?" Fat Amy raised her hand for a high five and got none.

Missing the reference to her band mate's sexual walkabout, Emily looked at the other two for an explanation and also got none.

Stacie, however, looked perplexed. "Thirty-five? That's more than one a day since the tour began!"

"What's your point?"

A new addition to the sudden visitors to the tent came in the form of one of Residual Heat's summer interns. He handed Stacie a note, which she read quickly before smiling. "Perfect timing," she said cheerfully, walking over to the entrance. "Chloe, come on in."

The Bellas—minus Beca—were surprised to hear Stacie grandly announcing Chloe's entrance as if they didn't see their wardrobe manager and close friend every hour of every day, until they noticed the bandage across the lower section of Chloe's throat.

"You had your nodes removed?" Aubrey said in awe.

Chloe nodded and looked at Stacie to help her explain. "I sent her to the best ENT surgeon in Minneapolis this morning."

"Why didn't you tell us? We could have been there for you!" said Emily.

"She didn't want you guys to make a big deal out of it," said Stacie. "You all needed to focus on being in your best form tonight and, in case she couldn't make it to the show, she didn't want you to be distracted."

"You not being here would have been a distraction anyway," Beca said softly.

"Ditto," nodded Aubrey. "I'm really happy for you, Chloe. I know it's been bothering you ever since we left. This is going to be so great!"

"Aww, Bellas group hug!" Fat Amy opened her arms wide and scooped them up against her body. "You, too, boss lady. You're part of this family now."

"Th-thanks," Stacie mumbled with her cheek squished against Chloe's shoulder blade as Fat Amy squeezed them all tightly together. "But you're on in ninety seconds so could we press pause on this hug until after the show?"

* * *

 **Response to Reviews:**

 **jalex1** (Jul. 27) - _Did_ Chloe's father really allow her to go? Hmm... we'll see! I love me some Jealous Chloe as well haha so there's a little bit of that in here.

 **Guest** (Jul. 28) - Thank you, I'm glad you enjoy it! I'll try to finish it ASAP so as not to keep you waiting! :)

 **Psychic Guest** (22 hours ago) - Thanks! Aubrey will be a complex character and Stacie will be forever badass – I can't wait for you to see where they go later on. I find Emily and Benji's story really sweet so I hope I can depict that well enough in the story. Jesse sure is a good guy and you can never have too much good guys! Haha.

* * *

 **A/N:** It's cool that you guys have picked up on the weird way Chloe left. There's a scene in this chapter (I'm sure you know which one) that supports your theories. Also, let's just ignore the fact that Beca's 18 and the legal drinking age in Minnesota back in 1969 was 21 haha. See you in the next chapter and thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter Eight

**A/N:** Sorry for the delay! I had planned to finish this story by the end of October but my keyboard broke and I lost all enthusiasm for writing until I got it fixed.

* * *

 **CHAPTER EIGHT**

The success of Chloe's surgery filled the Bellas with energy unmatched by anything they possessed in their previous performances, and the audience of the largest state fair in the country responded in kind. There was no doubt in anyone's minds at the end of the night that The Barden Bellas were the hottest rising stars in the music business.

Meanwhile, off-stage, the girls were finding a comfortable pattern to their weekly schedule. Due to their overwhelming popularity across all demographics, the Bellas were asked to perform no less than twice on any given state fair; practice, under Aubrey's orders, took up three hours of the day, while brainstorming new music took another three.

When they weren't working—or out with Stacie and her manager friends—Fat Amy was, most of the time, nowhere to be found, causing her band mates to wonder whether her sexual walkabout was getting out of hand; however, Fat Amy's argument that she had wrestled dingoes and crocodiles simultaneously and therefore could take care of herself eased their concerns.

Emily herself was on cloud nine ever since she had kissed Benji by accident, which, in the end, worked out for the both of them. Though they weren't explicitly 'together,' that symbolic act made necessary the one-sided game of hide and seek they ended up playing with their band mates.

"Aubrey's and Chloe's parents know _my_ parents and if my parents find out about us, they'll send me back home faster than you can tune an E string!" Emily had frantically whispered to Benji from the behind the cotton candy cart as they hid from the girls.

In spite of the bassists' tactics, the only person who remained truly oblivious to their budding relationship was Aubrey; the rest of the Residual Heat company were well-aware—Jesse, Chloe, and Fat Amy even helped to hide it from Aubrey. So, preoccupied with writing songs in preparation for their impending studio time, the Bellas' lead singer didn't find it suspicious whenever Fat Amy would strike up a conversation out of the blue about their band's future, only to have her end it abruptly once Emily and Benji were safely out of sight.

Beca, on the other hand, was having more fun teasing a vocal-resting Chloe than participating in what she insisted was none of their business. She purchased a small writing slate that Chloe could keep tied around her neck with a detachable pen. It was intended as a joke but, like Beca's comically large sunglasses that were now a fashion trend, Chloe took it to heart and wore it proudly.

Beca's favorite way of messing with the redhead was speaking on Chloe's behalf—and often without her consent—whenever she needed to interact with people, or even while she was in the middle of writing out a response. Beca did this especially well on their nights out. Chloe wasn't allowed any alcohol so before she had time to decline someone's offer for a drink Beca would come up with a variety of excuses for her.

"Oh, she's underage," she blurted out the first night it happened. Chloe turned to her with a raised eyebrow and so did the guy, but Beca was quick on her feet. "Yeah, she has that disease—you know, the one where she ages backward? That's why she looks fifty but she is actually thirteen."

Chloe shot her a light-hearted glare but didn't show any sign of denying Beca's outrageous explanation.

"I don't think she looks fifty," the man countered in an attempt to be smooth. "I think she looks really good, actually."

Beca rolled her eyes exaggeratedly while the guy was busy smiling down at Chloe, who in turn was trying not to laugh after seeing Beca's gesture out of the corner of her eye. Instead, she gave the flatterer a grateful smile in return.

"Dude, you basically just said you found a thirteen year old girl attractive," Beca said, feigning a concerned tone. "I think we should leave."

They left the man standing in a cloud of his own confusion, and once they were safely out of earshot Chloe reprimanded Beca with a light shove. " _That's not a real disease,_ " she wrote on her slate.

"Yes it is."

Curious to see what Chloe was scribbling, Beca stepped to the side and looked over her shoulder. " _It's the plot of a short story by F. Scott Fitzgerald._ "

Beca smiled, impressed that the redhead understood the reference. "I forgot I was talking to a college-educated woman."

Chloe shook her head and scribbled something else. " _I saw you reading it in your dad's bookstore._ "

"Who, me? Reading?" Beca smirked. "Preposterous."

Chloe's smile widened and she turned back to her slate. " _You seemed to like it, you big ner—_ "

Beca swiped the pen out of Chloe's hand before she could finish and brought it as far away from her as possible. "Okay, that's enough back-writing from you!"

On the second occasion Chloe was offered a drink, Beca painted Chloe as a recovering alcoholic and pretended to be her sponsor; and on another, she insisted that Chloe was allergic to alcohol—both times allowed her to steer Chloe away, like she did the first time, to another corner of the bar. Eventually, Beca boldly declared that Chloe was pregnant, which not only did its job to decline the offer, but also effectively stopped future ones from coming in.

Beca decided not to question why Chloe didn't just write 'I recently had throat surgery' on her slate and prop it up beside her. Beca assumed she was having just as much fun hearing her lame excuses as Beca was having coming up with them.

* * *

On their last day in Minneapolis, Aubrey miraculously gave them all a break to enjoy the city before they all left for Iowa the next day.

The bandleader (unsurprisingly) chose to stay indoors to polish more songs, only to be annoyed when Jesse announced he was doing the exact same thing for the Treblemakers. Fat Amy and Bumper took the opportunity to one up each other in their twisted game, and Emily and Benji had a date thinly disguised as a jamming session.

Thinking that the Bellas were due for a new look, Chloe headed to the shopping district with Beca dutifully in tow.

"Hey, you want some ice cream?" Beca asked as they passed a nicely decorated ice cream parlor on their way.

Chloe took one look at the giant ceramic ice cream decorations and nodded enthusiastically. She grabbed Beca's wrist and dragged her into the shop with fervor, as though it were her idea in the first place. Beca watched, grinning, as Chloe pressed her fingertips against the glass and looked in awe at all the different colors and flavors, then pointed at the tub of pink strawberry ice cream.

"Strawberry? Okay." Beca got the server's attention. "One mint chip for me and she'll have a plain vanilla—ow! I meant strawberry."

Chloe glared at her playfully and scribbled, " _Because of that, you're paying for mine!_ "

"Fine," groaned Beca, even though she had planned to make the treat anyway. She took the two dessert glasses and led Chloe to a booth at the back of the parlor, where they might have some privacy. The Bellas had been in Minneapolis long enough that passersby were recognizing them more easily.

"You know, I really miss hearing your voice and all, but I think I'm going to miss _this_ more when you do get it back," Beca remarked casually, taking a spoonful of ice cream and waving it between them. When Chloe began writing her reply, she continued, "I kind of like spending all this time with you."

Chloe, who had thought Beca was setting up for another cheeky comment, looked up in surprise and erased her original reply.

" _What'cha talking about? We're together 24/7."_

"I guess that's true," Beca nodded thoughtfully, keeping the spoon in her mouth a little longer before pulling it out with a pop. "But it was never, like, just the two of us. Maybe it's 'cause you can't talk now, so I have to be around all the time to help."

" _Help_ _me or_ _annoy_ _me?_ " Chloe wrote, underlining the words for emphasis. She smiled when Beca chuckled out a half-hearted apology, then returned to the slate. " _You like taking care of me._ "

Beca felt her ears warm. She had never thought of it that way, but Chloe had a knack for knowing exactly what she was feeling, even when she didn't know it herself. She tried to think of a noncommittal response to Chloe's astute observation, but the redhead was already writing her next words.

" _Stacie could've had an intern to help me. You offered._ "

"I thought you'd prefer a friend over someone who's forced to look after you," Beca said with a small shrug, "And like I said… I like spending time with you."

They locked eyes. Chloe smiled widely. She didn't write it down, but Beca understood that look to mean, " _I do, too._ "

Beca continued to stare at Chloe until something in the corner of her vision caught her attention: someone standing on their tiptoes to get a better look behind the freezers. Unfortunately, the fan took incidental eye contact from Beca as a signal to approach and ask for an autograph and a photo.

Beca obliged but was immediately put off when the fan asked Chloe to take their picture. Chloe waved away her protest, however, and happily did it for them. Beca apologized once they were alone again.

" _Don't be silly_ ," wrote Chloe in response. " _Publicity is good for the Bellas._ "

Beca refrained from blurting out that if the fan wanted a picture with the _Bellas,_ then Chloe, who co-wrote more than half of their songs, should have been in it.

* * *

 **IOWA**

The moment they crossed state borders, Aubrey declared that the Bellas should only keep raising their standards and not get complacent given their sustained success. The way she saw it, the home stretch of their Midwest state fair tour was when top-tier producers would be gauging their potential the most, so they had to do better than their previous performances combined.

The additional pressure didn't seem to affect the band, who were used to delivering their hit to huge crowds at this point, but it didn't exactly help Chloe's recovery from surgery.

For the first time since the band's inception, Chloe had had to miss their performances (their first of two in Des Moines) to nurse a headache that grew worse on the drive down from Minneapolis, though she denied that the added stress had caused it.

A doctor Stacie had brought in once they arrived at the hotel concluded that it was likely a minor infection she had picked up after her surgery and advised that flu-like symptoms were likely to develop if Chloe didn't rest. So Chloe grudgingly ended up staying in their hotel room on the night of their performance, with her door guarded by one of Stacie's interns under threat of being fired if he let Chloe leave.

While the good news that Chloe could now speak softly for up to thirty minutes a day made her talking much easier, it didn't make her _listening_ any better. When the band returned from the show, they were not pleased to learn that Chloe had not slept as instructed, but had been composing a melody for new lyrics she had written that same night.

"Your fever is going to get worse if you don't stop _working_ ," reprimanded Stacie, waving a hand around the sheets of paper littering Chloe's bed. Beca yanked the guitar out of the redhead's hands while Emily shoved a thermometer in her mouth.

"Ith wath time jusht goin' to waste—" Chloe reasoned, jerking her head away when Emily attempted to clamp her mouth shut to get her temperature properly.

"And you say _I'm_ the baby of the group," giggled Emily.

"Chloe, you won't be much help if—" Aubrey began, until she got distracted on her way to setting a bowl of chicken soup on Chloe's bedside table by one of the music sheets on it. She hummed the first couple of bars under her breath. "Wow, Chlo, this riff is amazing… Good work!" She caught Stacie's raised eyebrow and added, "I mean—you could have written this when you were feeling better, you know…"

"Thanks, Bree, but _actually_ , I couldn't," said Chloe matter-of-factly, "because I'd be prepping the Bellas' wardrobe for tomorrow, writing the copy for _Rolling Stone_ , scheduling that fan club meet-and-greet—"

"Okay, first of all, we can dress ourselves, thank you very much," Beca cut in, mostly to stop Chloe from rambling and straining her voice further. "And second—isn't most of that Stacie's job?"

The girls turned to their manager, who looked only half-guilty. "That's a fair question, but in my defense that _is_ what I hired Chloe as a PR agent for," she said reasonably.

The other half of Stacie was excited. "But I have been taking _some_ of her load off," she continued coyly. "For instance, I just issued a press release. You girls might not know this yet—tomorrow's show has officially _sold out_! That's over ten _thousand_ seats filled with people wanting to see the Bellas!"

"Are you serious? That's awesome," said Fat Amy, nonchalantly walking into Chloe's room in the middle of the girls' celebratory cheers.

"Where have _you_ been? We left the fairgrounds like an hour ago," Emily said curiously.

Fat Amy gave an exasperated sigh. "Are we really going to go through this again?" she asked dully. "You ask where I was, I make up a weak lie about how I was _not_ licking chocolate pudding off of a virile man's abs, then everyone covers your innocent ears… Aren't we all past that?"

Emily shrugged in concession, since that was exactly how their entire tour went—Fat Amy popping up after an absence during which she'd been racking up the numbers for her competition with Bumper.

The rest of the Bellas tried their best to erase that mental image and returned to celebrating their latest milestone.

"And, Chloe, don't worry about the press release," Stacie continued in the middle of their group hug, "the LA office has prepared statements for this kind of big media stuff. Just take it easy for the next couple of days, all right?" She gave the redhead a sly smile. "You're going to need your energy."

Chloe looked at her questioningly but the Bellas' manager merely gave her a look that told her to just take her advice.

* * *

Aubrey froze halfway up the steps of the stage. "You've _got_ to be kidding me."

As the announcer was riling up the crowd for the Bellas' entrance, the stagehands began placing a row of wooden pedestals along the backdrop. And waiting on the opposite wing was a line of back-up dancers in skimpy gold dresses.

Stacie drew her attention to where Aubrey was glaring and gave a tense sigh. "Look, Aubrey—"

"Let me guess," Aubrey cut her off, "you can't do anything about the dancers _now_."

"I told Mr. Smith you weren't into that the last time," said Stacie. "But he insisted that tonight was extra special. And it is! It's your first _sold out_ show—!"

"Yeah, Bree, loosen up a bit," shrugged Fat Amy. "If you think about it, this is what these women do for a living. If you keep asking them to stop doing their jobs, well, they could lose it."

"That's not really comforting," Aubrey said through gritted teeth because she actually thought Fat Amy had a point.

"I wasn't trying to be comforting," mumbled the Australian.

"But I guess you're right…"

It wasn't as if they had a choice to change the blocking last minute, but no one was dumb enough to point that out to Aubrey.

"Good," Stacie breathed a sigh of relief. "Now, I don't know if I've told you this yet but there are ten- _thousand_ people are out there" —the Bellas smirked proudly— "all for _you_. Give them a show they won't forget."

Meanwhile, on stage, the announcer was nearing the end of his intro. "… _playing that thing that's racin' up the charts—_ "

Stacie straightened up. "That's your cue, girls."

"Let's crush it," said Fat Amy, rolling her shoulders and cracking her neck.

Beca took a deep breath and unfolded her shades. Then she turned—away from the stage, from her drum set, and from the crowd—and, as was her ritual, looked at Chloe, whose nose and cheeks were a little pink from either the excitement or her cold. Her temperature hadn't gone down overnight but she insisted that she be present during their sold out performance and, to their surprise, Stacie agreed.

Amid the adrenaline pumping through her system, Beca felt a sensation of déjà vu when she looked into Chloe's eyes and saw them shining with pride—almost exactly like they did the day she impressed the Bellas with her audition.

" _Good luck_ ," mouthed Chloe. Even with her normal vocal capabilities she would not have been unable to compete with the noise the audience was making.

As the crowd had reached its boiling point of anticipation, Beca threw Chloe a confident wink before pulling on the shades.

"— _hold on to your seats, Des Moines, it's… The Barden Bellas!_ "

* * *

The screams never seemed to stop; from their entrance to their exit, to the path heading backstage, their fans never seemed to stop cheering.

It should have been an indication of how crazy things were going to get when, after they took their bow, people had stormed toward the stage, climbing over the metal railings and barreling down the steps to get within arm's reach of the band.

The Bellas exchanged bewildered looks but Stacie sharply called their attention from the wings and motioned them to hurry while the security team still had a handle on the situation. Seeing the girl group swiftly duck to the sides and knowing that they couldn't possibly catch them backstage, the remainder of the mob anticipated their escape route and proceeded to the backstage exit, where they eagerly waited for the Bellas' departure from the fairgrounds.

Meanwhile, Stacie was ushering the girls into their dressing room (now the biggest and classiest among them all) and closing the door behind them for privacy.

"Aren't we going to take part in the curtain call?" Emily asked as they faintly heard the announcer call the names of the other Residual Heat artists.

"Change of plans. We need to be leaving ASAP," said Stacie. "I've booked us the earliest ticket out of here—"

"What? Where are we going?" Fat Amy asked in genuine surprise.

"' _That Thing You Do'_ has become the fastest rising single in the history of the Residual Heat label," Stacie revealed, her voice shaking with excitement. "Your song is now number _seven_ in the Hot 100!"

"Yaay, that's awesome, woo-hoo—why do we have to leave though?" Fat Amy kept pressing, while her band mates celebrated more enthusiastically.

"Right—I forgot the most important part," said Stacie, shaking her head. "The president of the label called. He wants you girls on the first flight to LA, which leaves in an hour—"

Beca's eyes widened. " _LA?!_ "

Week after week of milestone successes could make a person jaded, and in Beca's case this was the first piece of news in a long time to elicit from her a reaction of genuine excitement and apprehension. And to think that only weeks ago they were tearing up her dad's bookstore over hearing ' _That Thing You Do'_ on a local radio station.

And, sure, getting signed by the label was amazing, getting on their Midwest tour was fantastic, and breaching Billboard's Top 10 was unbelievable—but up until this point the Bellas had still kept their expectations relatively low. She had believed that the tour would end with a recording deal for _one_ album, most likely in a studio closer to Georgia, and then the rest was up to fate—a fate undoubtedly tied to the success of that first album.

But taking their careers to Los Angeles this early was like joining the military but skipping basic training. LA was serious stuff—it was for the big leagues, where only true talent makes it out on top; the epicenter of the music industry, where dreams either get made, or die.

The way Beca saw it, LA was the Bellas' chance to prove that they were good enough musicians, and not one-hit wonders.

"What about, er, _my_ situation?" Emily piped up.

"Well, since we're pulling out of the tour early, we freed up enough time to fulfill the rest of our agreement," replied Stacie, "which means you'll be going back to school a rock star, Em!"

"Wait—are you saying... does that mean we're off to the studio?" Aubrey asked eagerly. "We can release our new music?"

"Well, you'll have to make a courtesy call to the president first, then do a couple of press stuff" —Stacie gestured at Chloe— "but, essentially, yes. You're done with the tour; it's time to make music."

Aubrey was practically levitating with joy. She attempted an appreciative gesture at Stacie that only came out as an approving nod, as though it were only now—after seven cities' worth of gigs—that she found her high school nemesis trustworthy.

Chloe sidled closer to Beca and curled her fingers around her elbow to bring the drummer out of her reverie. "You okay?" she whispered with her eyebrows raised.

"Yeah," Beca replied absentmindedly, before refocusing her attention on the present situation. "I mean—yeah, of course! LA? Are you kidding? This is great for the Bellas!"

"If you say so," Chloe chanted, making it obvious that she thought Beca's behavior was odd.

"Yeah, sorry, it's just… LA, you know?" Beca took a deep breath. "This is the real deal. I mean this tour was real, too, but… you know…"

Chloe nodded solemnly but didn't have anything to add. Beca, however, took the silence literally and felt a rush of protectiveness coming out of nowhere.

"Are _you_ okay?" she asked, eyeing the redhead carefully.

Beca resisted asking what she really wanted to ask, which was whether this was what Chloe really wanted. Ever since that day Chloe had 'quit' the band—air quotes because Beca never really accepted that she had—Beca couldn't get Aubrey's words out of her head whenever they hit a new milestone.

 _This was never her dream._

And even though Chloe had defended her choice to stick with the Bellas on the ride to Columbus, she had also confessed before her surgery that she didn't know who she really is. For some reason that Beca couldn't seem to grasp… she wanted Chloe to decide that _this_ is where she belonged—with the Bellas, becoming legitimate recording artists.

"Of course I am," Chloe answered sincerely. "This is a great opportunity for the Bellas, I—" She swallowed and immediately winced, remembering that the doctor had discouraged her from doing that.

Beca noticed and put a hand on Chloe's shoulder. "It's okay, we don't have to talk about this right now," she said hurriedly. "Let's just get out of here and find some peace and quiet."

Chloe nodded and looked relieved to be finally leaving. In fact, they all were. Through the doors they could hear security personnel coordinating with each other to clear a path for the Bellas to leave the premises due to the large number of fans that had gathered at the exit.

A short rap on the door interrupted the general murmur in the dressing room and, while Stacie spoke to security, Beca took the opportunity to look around her.

Aubrey had moved to Chloe's other side, gushing about finally making it in the industry—despite the many times she had said something similar over the summer—while Chloe could only nod happily in response. Emily seemed a little down to hear that they'd be leaving the tour, but compared to her Fat Amy looked downright miserable.

"Don't worry, Ames," Beca comforted her halfheartedly, "I'm sure the hot guys in California will count toward your score."

"Huh?" Fat Amy looked up, startled. "Oh, right. Yeah, I guess…"

Beca and Emily exchanged baffled looks. They would have thought Amy would jump at the chance to beat Bumper. "Everything okay, Amy?"

"Yeah, yeah," Fat Amy waved them off. "It's just that, California, you know—the sun and sea don't really suit me."

"Don't you get a lot of those in Australia?" asked Emily.

"Tasmania is much cooler," Fat Amy responded distractedly, glancing at Stacie still working out logistics by the doorway. "Look, I gotta hit the loo real quick—don't leave without me, all right?"

Before either brunette could say anything more, Fat Amy squeezed herself through (in other words, displaced) Stacie and the head of security, ignoring the manager's questions. Emily stared at the opened space and turned to Beca.

"I need to see Benji," she said determinedly. "I can't just leave without saying goodbye."

Beca nodded understandingly. There was a pause during which Beca expected to see Emily follow Fat Amy out the door that ended when she realized that Emily was still looking at her expectantly.

As much as she insisted on being 'hands off' with her relationship problems, Beca couldn't stand Emily's pout. "Okay, okay, I'll go with you!" she cried. "Just get that face away from me."

Emily squealed happily and Beca turned to the last two girls in the room. "I'm just going to help Emily to the comfort room," she announced dryly. Behind her, Emily was nodding too excitedly for someone going to the toilet, but Aubrey bought it.

"Okay, we'll just be here discussing our recording schedule," said the blonde, gesturing between herself and Chloe, who looked less than thrilled to hear that.

Beca shot the redhead a sympathetic smirk before being pulled toward the door by Emily. Before they crossed into the hallway, however, Stacie propped her arm up against the doorframe, blocking their way. "Whoa, what's with the exodus? Where are you two going?"

"Bathroom," answered Emily. Beca gave their manager a clarifying look.

"Oh… okay. Just be back in five minutes."

On the way, Beca and Emily passed a number of fellow Residual Heat artists, who congratulated them and shook their hands after hearing the news from their own managers. The Treblemakers' dressing room wasn't far from the Bellas', but the twisting hallways made their journey more time-consuming. They arrived just as Jesse and Benji were heading inside, carrying their instruments.

"Hey!" greeted Jesse. "We just heard—the Bellas are going to LA! Congrats!"

Emily and Benji seemed locked in to each other's eyes and, reading the situation, Jesse stepped to the side wordlessly and let the two have the dressing room in private. Beca leaned against the wall beside the door to wait and Jesse mimicked her.

"Bummer about that, huh," he said softly.

"But they're going to see each other again after the tour, aren't they?" shrugged Beca. "Don't you guys work from the LA office, too?"

"Yeah, but that's all the way at the end of summer. Emily has to go back to school, and then they'll be on opposite sides of the country."

"Oh… well, it's not like their relationship was that serious, right?" said Beca, thinking out loud. "I mean they've only known each other a couple of weeks..."

Jesse gave a thoughtful pause. "You know, it only takes a second after meeting a person to know that they're someone you want to keep in your life. There's just this feeling in your gut, this cosmic force, that tells you you've found someone you feel a hundred percent comfortable with and can conceivably spend the rest of your life with, you know?"

Beca gave him a sideways glance. "Are we still talking about Emily and Benji here?" she said knowingly.

"I don't know. Are we?" Jesse smirked in reply.

Beca narrowed her eyes suspiciously. Almost in unison, they both asked, "So how are things going with—?"

Jesse chuckled. "Okay, I'll go first." He thrust his hands into his pockets and sighed. "Things with Aubrey are pretty much dead in the water now that you're going to LA. It'll be much easier for her to ignore me once we're on separate states. You?"

"There's nothing going on between me and Chloe," Beca replied automatically.

Jesse's smirk only grew wider. "I didn't say anything about Chloe."

Beca elbowed him in the ribs. "You've been obvious since day one, Swanson."

"Oh, come on," he whined. "We're bros, right? This is the last time we'll see each other before you go off to LA and who knows what'll happen. You can at least be honest with me _now_."

Beca rolled her eyes. "I _am_ being honest. There's nothing going on." When Jesse continued to press her, she admitted, "So I like hanging out with her more than I do with the other Bellas—so what? I'm sure you prefer hanging out with Benji over Bumper."

"Yeah, but I don't win him toys at the fairs and buy him ice cream," Jesse pointed out cheekily.

"Well, maybe I'm just a nicer friend than you are."

"Or maybe you don't know where the line between 'friends' and 'more-than-friends' is." Jesse softened his tone and said seriously, "Look, I know you're just gonna deny this but, for what it's worth, Chloe likes you, too."

Beca didn't say anything, partly because denying it would be redundant and partly because her heart began beating so rapidly in her chest that she was afraid no words could properly come out.

"She looks at you like you're her whole world," continued Jesse. "I'd do anything to have Aubrey look at me that way."

Beca appreciated his pivoting back to his own situation; given that her heart was racing just considering that what he said was true, she wasn't ready to face the possibility that it _was_.

They heard chairs scraping against the floor inside the Treblemakers' dressing room and realized that their goodbye was coming to an end.

"Well, it's been nice touring with you, Swanson," said Beca, pushing herself off the wall and extending her hand. "Maybe we'll see each other in LA soon."

"Definitely," grinned Jesse. He bypassed Beca's outstretched hand and pulled her in for a hug. "Good luck out there. You girls will be great."

Beca smiled and clapped him on the back gratefully. "Thanks, man."

The door opened just as they pulled apart and revealed Emily and Benji both wearing downcast, somber expressions. Emily looked up at Beca and gave her a somber nod, then began walking slowly up the hallway to return to the Bellas' dressing room.

Before they turned the corner, Emily took one last look over her shoulder and waved sadly. Beca, following closely behind the taller brunette in case she had a sudden urge to rush back, looked back as well at the two Treblemakers.

She saw Benji waving back at them with a wide grin that he must have hoped would help make it easier on Emily to leave, while Jesse stood, his goofy smile resting easily on his face, with a comforting arm hooked around Benji's neck.

Ironically, Beca was the one rushing back with one last thing to say.

"I was wrong," she told Jesse. "You're probably just as nice a friend as I am."

Jesse raised his eyebrows. "Maybe even better?"

"Don't push it," smirked Beca. "But my point is… you're a nice guy, Jesse. You're loyal and you look out for your friends. So I don't think you should give up on Aubrey just yet. If our paths do cross in LA, then you should give her a call. By then I hope she realizes she'd be lucky to have you."

Jesse's smile widened. "Will do."

Beca bobbed her head. "Well… until then. Benji," she nodded in farewell to the Treblemakers' bassist, who smiled back.

Once the drummer rejoined her around the corner, Emily playfully poked Beca in the ribs. "I gotta say, I'm jealous," she said. "You said you didn't want to get involved with me and Benji but now you're giving Jesse advice on Aubrey?"

Beca shrugged. "It's not like you two needed the extra help anyway. And, hey," she put a hand on Emily's shoulder, "if it's meant to be, then you two are going to find each other again. I'm sure of it."

"Aww," Emily squealed, "you've turned into such a softie this summer. And I'm pretty sure I know who—"

Beca and Emily had just turned the final corner when they heard the simultaneous screeching voices of their lead singer and manager.

" _There you two are!_ "

The brunettes were surprised to find the end of the hallway already brimming with photographers and reporters being kept in line by security guards, all the way to the exit, beyond which they could already hear their screaming fans.

Fat Amy was at the head of the line, clearing a path for Aubrey and Chloe behind her, with the help of some security guards. Stacie hung back, waving an arm at Beca and Emily and signaling them to hurry.

"Go, go, go!" Beca put her hand on Emily's back and guided her through the throng with Stacie bringing up the rear.

Once they made it out into the open night air, the screams increased tenfold and the crowd began chanting, " _Shades! Shades! Shades!_ "

Stacie turned to Beca and shouted over the noise. "You heard 'em! Put on your sunglasses!"

Beca unhooked the accessory out of her pocket hesitantly. For her, wearing sunglasses at night was the epitome of impracticality. It was fine during their performances, since the stage was always well lit and all she needed to pay attention to was her drum set. But the outdoors—particularly what was supposed to be a _secret_ backdoor exit—was only dimly lit by the flashing of cameras.

The moment the crowd caught sight of the sunglasses in her hands, they screeched and started putting on their own pairs. The gesture was enough of an ego boost to make Beca pull hers on and flash a smile at them all. (She also gripped the back of Emily's blouse tightly for guidance given that her vision was just plunged into half-darkness.)

They moved through the crowd slowly, in due part to Fat Amy and Aubrey signing a few autographs here and there, but mostly because the fans were persistently pushing against the velvet ropes just to reach out and touch them.

When the Bellas were only a couple of yards away from their getaway van, one of the bolder fans undid the ropes altogether, allowing everyone in her section to rush toward their favorite band member for a picture.

Sharp whistling pierced the air, followed by a mad rush of people going in every direction. As tiny and light as she was, Beca was easily swept every which way, losing her grip on Emily's shirt and even her ability to walk as she was literally carried along by the wave of tightly packed fans.

Suddenly, a hand thrust out from somewhere in the mass of people and grabbed onto her wrist. Beca squeezed through people and toward her savior, and saw Stacie extending her other arm to reach Emily.

A security guard came up behind them and started forcibly clearing a way for them, blowing on his whistle to an almost deafening extent. Beca pulled her glasses off, looked over Stacie's shoulder toward the van, and saw Fat Amy and Aubrey climbing in, while a gradually widening circle of guards pushed the crowd farther and farther from the vehicle.

Emily ducked under their arms and quickly jumped into the van after Aubrey. Stacie bent low and helped Beca through. "Get in the van!" she motioned, out of breath, but Beca sensed that something was amiss.

"Where's Chloe?" she yelled at Stacie. While the manager glanced inside the van to double-check, Beca got on her tiptoes and scanned the crowd behind her.

For a brief moment her heart sank and she worried that a repeat of the bar riot was happening and that Chloe was somewhere on the ground being trampled on—until her eyes zeroed in on the wide, muscular back of one of the security guards in the circle, far from where they had broke through. He was shaking his head while Chloe tried to reason—with hand gestures, as she couldn't get him to lean down for her to whisper in his ear—that she was part of the entourage.

Beca felt a rush of irrational anger and sprinted across the gravel. She brought her fist down on the guard's rock-hard back and bellowed at the top of her lungs, " _She's with us!_ "

The guard, though unaffected by Beca's pounding, twisted his head around curiously. His colleague beside him waved his hand to let Chloe through but Beca was already pulling her out.

"Are you okay?" Beca croaked, her voice hoarse from the incident, once they were all safely inside the van. Fat Amy was sprawled across the rearmost bench, her entire body moving up and down with each breath she took, and Aubrey was applying a bandage on Emily's knee, where she had scraped it after tripping over her own feet during the wave.

Chloe nodded exhaustedly in reply to Beca. Overwhelmed by her near escape, she rested her head on Beca's shoulder and closed her eyes. "That was crazy," she whispered.

"Yeah…" Beca panted. Her heart was still taking its time winding down. She could feel the heat coming off of Chloe and silently vowed never to let things get that crazy ever again.

* * *

Getting on the plane was a much easier feat than getting on the van, and, having arrived just in the nick of time, they were on board minutes after being dropped off at the terminal.

As soon as they were in the air and the seatbelt signs were off, Stacie rose from her seat and addressed the Bellas. "Sorry, girls, I know you're all eager to get some rest after tonight," she said softly, "but we should probably have a meeting now so you can rest the whole flight through. They have a table for us up in first class."

Aubrey, Fat Amy, and Emily nodded. Stacie smiled gratefully and led the way up the aisle. Chloe, on the other hand, settled into her seat and closed her eyes.

"You're not coming?" Beca asked softly.

"Nah, I think I'll sit this one out," yawned Chloe, wrapping the blanket tighter around her.

"Here," Beca flipped up the armrest between them and got off her seat, "lie down."

Chloe opened her eyes slowly when Beca pulled the pillow from between her arms and laid it on her seat. "But where are you gonna sit?" she mumbled sleepily.

"There are a hundred empty seats on this flight, don't worry about me," chuckled Beca.

"No…" whined Chloe, though she didn't stop Beca from lowering her down across the two seats. "I want you here with me…"

Beca swallowed to lubricate her dry throat. "Okay," she whispered. "I'll be here."

Chloe hummed appreciatively and snuggled into the pillow.

"Now, sleep," Beca said firmly. She squatted down near Chloe's head and brushed her hair away from her face with gentle fingers. She pressed the back of her hand against Chloe's forehead and frowned when she felt that Chloe's temperature had gone way up since earlier that afternoon.

Hoping it was simply the result of the adrenaline rush of the night, Beca continued stroking Chloe's hair until she was certain that the redhead was asleep. Then, she found herself contemplating whether it would be a bad idea to give Chloe an innocent, goodnight kiss on the forehead—that is, until she realized that the mere thought that it _could_ be a 'bad idea' made it not so innocent after all.

Maybe she's finally found the line.

* * *

 **Response to Reviews:**

 **jalex1** (Jul. 30) - Beca being protective over Chloe gives me life haha! Now that their blissful touring has come to an abrupt end, I wonder what the Bellas have in store for them.

 **RJRMovieFan** (Jul. 30) - Thank you! I don't foresee a love triangle in this story, unlike in _That Thing You Do_ , although I substituted the conflict in there with something else. I can't promise sophisticated character arcs as maybe my other, longer, stories have since I just wanted to loosely tie the two light-hearted musical comedies together, but I hope they are still characters you can root for!

 **Reader** (Jul. 30) - I did some research (well, Google) and found that the surgery itself could take just a couple of hours and it's up to the doctor to determine if the patient can be discharged or kept overnight. So if Chloe squeezed in an appointment early in the morning, then she could conceivably attend the Bellas' performance in the evening. Although, as it was revealed in this chapter, she probably shouldn't have since she got a wicked fever afterwards haha. Thanks for the review! I hope I get to deliver the drama soon enough haha.

 **Psychic Guest** (Jul. 31) - Haha! No comment on the first two predictions but I hope you're not too upset that Beca seems to be on Team Jaubrey. But on the bright side, you got your wish and now there's a huge space between Jesse and Aubrey haha!


	9. Chapter Nine

**A/N:** This was supposed to be a longer chapter but I felt so bad for the huge gap between the last two chapters that I just decided to cut it 2/3 of the way to finish early. I hope you enjoy more protective Beca, a pinch of shameless flirting, and some Bella bonding.

* * *

 **CHAPTER NINE**

A flight attendant escorted Beca to the Bellas' table, where it seemed the meeting had already begun.

"—I get that we have to pay homage to the president and all, but why do we have to be in a movie?" Aubrey was saying.

"Are you saying you _don't_ want to be in a movie?" Fat Amy asked incredulously.

"Not _just_ an appearance on a major motion picture, Aubrey," Stacie explained calmly. "If I played my cards right, you're also going to be on the Hollywood Television Showcase—"

"We're going to be on TV?" Emily squealed excitedly, but Aubrey shook her head in annoyance, claiming, "You missed my point!"

Beca chose this moment to cut in before Aubrey started butting heads with Stacie so soon after warming up to her. "Hey, Chloe's not feeling any better—especially after what happened tonight." She turned to Stacie. "Maybe we can lay off some of the press stuff until she gets better?"

Stacie frowned. "I'm sorry to hear that. I'll have a doctor check up on her once we check into the hotel. But unfortunately we have to press on with the promotions," she said apologetically, to both Beca and Aubrey. "We're already booked and it will appear rude not to attend—"

"But the whole point of LA was to make more records," reminded Aubrey, keeping her voice as even as she could.

"And you _will_ make records. You just have to let the industry know you've arrived on their doorstep first," replied Stacie. "And don't you worry, after all of that—Discmaster studios on Sunset Boulevard. How does that sound?"

Aubrey looked mildly appeased so Fat Amy took the opportunity to change the subject. "So what swanky digs is Residual Heat putting us up in this time?"

"Oh, that reminds me," Stacie snapped her fingers, "your letters from home got mixed up with a bunch of fan mail and I forgot that I asked an intern on the tour to sort them out. I'll have him forward them to the Avalon hotel as soon as possible."

"Ava…lon. Got it," said Fat Amy, writing it down on her palm.

"Well, that's all I needed to say on my end," sighed Stacie. "If you girls have no more questions, I'll let you get some rest."

The Bellas exchanged satisfied looks and nodded at Stacie. Aubrey, Emily, and Fat Amy made their way back to coach but Beca hung back. Stacie looked up from her date book. "What can I help you with, Bec?"

"Um…" Beca took a moment to figure out how to phrase it. "I've never been to LA, so I don't really know… if the Bellas would be _as_ popular there—"

"Don't worry," Stacie cut in with an understanding nod. "I'll make sure things don't get out of hand. And I will personally introduce Chloe to Mr. Siler and let him know about her importance to the band."

Beca nodded gratefully. "Thank you." She turned to leave when Stacie caught her by the wrist and asked, "Is Chloe okay? If she's having trouble sleeping I have some pills that could help."

"Nah, I made sure she was asleep before I left. Besides, just stroke her hair a bit and she falls straight so sleep. It soothes her, I think."

"I'm sure it does," smiled Stacie.

Beca chose not to dignify the manager's knowing look with a response, instead she advised her to get some rest as well. "You're not looking as hot as you did when you burst into my dad's bookstore," she added with a cheeky wave.

"Hey!"

* * *

Stacie and the Bellas took separate cabs from the airport—the Bellas' manager had to check on her apartment and refresh her wardrobe while the girls were tasked to check into their hotel in Beverly Hills. As the sun just started to peek from beyond the horizon, Emily marveled at the empty shops and restaurants they passed while the others basked in excited anticipation for their next adventure.

After the cab driver helped unload their bags, they entered the empty hotel lobby and Chloe directed the girls to the sofas. "Wait here," she said thickly, sniffling slightly from her cold. "I'll check us in."

"Chloe, you do so much already—" began Emily.

"Yeah, let Beca do it," said Fat Amy, leaning back on the sofa and shutting her eyes.

Despite being a forced volunteer, Beca was happy to march to the front desk and lighten Chloe's load, but the redhead was at her heels.

"Hello, there," the blonde woman behind the counter greeted with a pearly white smite. "My name is Gail. What can do I for you fine ladies so early in the day?"

"Hi, my friends and I are checking in—a, uh, late check-in… or maybe early? But we have a reservation under…erm…?" Beca trailed off, losing her confidence after each indecisive statement.

"See, _this_ is why I handle the logistics," smirked Chloe. "Reservation under Anastasia Conrad of Residual Heat Records for two deluxe suites, please and thank you."

"Oh, my," Gail said excitedly, looking between Beca and Chloe while pushing a number of buttons on her desk. "You're that famous girl band, aren't you? The Barden Bellas! Let me guess, _you're_ the dark and broody one," she pointed at Beca with a long, nail-polished finger, then at Chloe, "and _you're_ the cheerful ray of sunshine!"

"Actually, I'm just the tag-along," said Chloe. Beca scowled at her remark but Chloe continued to make pleasant small talk. "Do you like the Bellas' music?"

"Do I? We've been playing _'That Thing You Do'_ in the hotel non-stop this summer!" praised Gail. She then added in a stage whisper, "Though to be completely honest, _'Little Wild One'_ is my absolute favorite even though it's not on the airwaves as much. I, too, prefer a spicier sausage, if you know what I mean."

"Amen, sister!" Fat Amy called, with her eyes still closed, from halfway across the lobby.

Beca exchanged bemused looks with Chloe. "I don't think that's what Chloe meant when she wrote it," she said, and Chloe shook her head. "That's _definitely_ not what I meant."

"Oh, well, to each her own," shrugged Gail. A bell dinged from somewhere behind her and she held out two keys. "Your rooms are ready—adjoining rooms 242 and 243. Our staff will take care of your bags. And I'll send up some soup for your cold after you've had a good rest, how's that, hon'?"

"Thank you so much," smiled Chloe.

"No problem. It's an honor having The Barden Bellas in my hotel. If you need anything, just let me know."

* * *

Beca hung back with Chloe while Gail asked her to fill out some forms and, minutes later, they entered room 243 in time to see Fat Amy, who usually took the couch, plop her bag onto one of the beds.

"Sorry, Becs," she shrugged. "You know the rules: first-come, first-served."

The door that connected the two rooms was wide open and Emily popped her head in from the other side. "But we left you the double," she said brightly, motioning to the farther bed. "So you two shouldn't have a problem sharing."

"But Beca shouldn't share a bed with a sick person—" Chloe started to reason but Beca was quick to interject.

"I don't mind. I mean—" She quickly thought of an excuse for why she was not unenthused by the prospect of possibly catching Chloe's cold. "You won't be sick by tonight anyway, right? 'Cause you're going to do nothing but _rest_ and drink plenty of fluids." Beca guided Chloe to their bed and plopped her down on it to emphasize her point.

"Good," said Fat Amy, lowering herself down on her own bed with a yawn, "'cause I am bushed."

Chloe looked like she still wanted to protest. "I really think we— _ohh_ , _God,_ " Chloe moaned in comfort the second her head touched the soft pillows and sunk into it.

Beca felt her heart skip a beat at the noise Chloe emitted and she stepped—practically almost leapt—away from the bed, feeling her face heat up. Beca's odd reaction didn't slip past Emily, who remained leaning against the doorframe.

The bassist watched, smiling, as Beca pulled Christopher the bear from Chloe's luggage and transferred it to Chloe's outstretched fingers. Then Chloe attempted to drag Beca into bed, but Beca managed to slip through her grasp.

"Just give me a minute to change," laughed Beca, gesturing at her outfit from their concert last night. "Unlike you, I can't sleep in these tight clothes."

"I can't either," pouted Chloe, "but the bed is just _so_ comfortable… Help me change?"

Beca did a double take on her way to the bathroom, a part of her considering that Chloe was being serious… and the implications of that. Then she quickly had to remind herself that Chloe had a fever; she wasn't an invalid.

"Nice try," she smirked. "Get your own pants off, you perv."

Emily left the two of them playfully bickering, and closed the door behind her.

* * *

A few minutes later, when they both more comfortably dressed, Beca drew the curtains and dimmed the lights, and then settled into bed beside Chloe. Beca lay awkwardly at first, poker straight and facing the ceiling, until she felt the bed shake with Chloe's silent laughter.

"Why are you so stiff?" she whispered.

"I'm not."

Chloe poked her in the ribs.

"Ow!"

"You're so tense," Chloe wriggled closer. "Need a backrub?"

"I'm good," deadpanned Beca. "Also, you're really hot—"

"Thanks. I do what I can."

"I meant your _body_ is hot—your body _temperature_ ," Beca hissed, correcting herself before Chloe could twist her words. "Maybe you had a point about catching your cold—"

"Okay, okay! I'll back off." Chloe wriggled in the other direction, leaving about a foot of space between them. After a pause, she whispered, "You should enjoy this space while it lasts, Becs, 'cause once I'm well, don't expect any. I'm a hardcore cuddler."

Beca smirked. "Oh yeah?"

"Mm-hm. And I've been saving up," she winked. "The last time I cuddled with anyone was… with Emily, back in Ohio. It's been single beds ever since so I have to admit, seeing a bigger bed again really got me going."

Beca laughed, wondering if Chloe was aware of her double entendre. She probably was; Chloe _lived_ to tease Beca. And maybe it was a reflection of recent events, or the silence of the room giving her more clarity, but Beca found herself reading between the lines.

Chloe was an affectionate person—that much was clear from the moment Beca shook her hand. And, being a self-proclaimed 'hardcore cuddler,' Chloe's affection was most often expressed in a physical manner. So it was unusual, almost metaphorical, that the last time she had had a connection to her fellow Bellas—a prolonged, physical one—was at the beginning of their tour.

"Hey, Chlo?"

Chloe, who thought Beca had fallen asleep given the long pause, lifted an eyelid slowly. "Yeah?"

"You don't really believe what you said earlier, do you?" Beca asked quietly, though Fat Amy's loud snoring was insurance enough to know that they had privacy. "That you're just a tag-along?" Chloe didn't reply immediately, so Beca preempted her. "'Cause you're not, okay? You are as much a Bella as any one of us. We'd be lost without you."

Chloe gave a weak smile. "Can I get that in writing? Maybe I can show it to the security detail next time," she said sardonically. "And what are you talking about? You _won't_ be lost without me. Stacie can handle PR and you said it yourself, you don't need me to dress you up—"

Beca turned to her side so that they were facing each other. "You know that's not what I meant," she defended seriously.

Chloe looked down guiltily and sighed. "Yeah, I know… I'm sorry, I just—I was sleep-deprived. It was early in the morning. I didn't know what I was saying."

Beca wasn't convinced that it was just a passing thought for Chloe, but she did believe that the redhead hadn't gotten the uninterrupted rest she needed, so Beca let it go with a lighthearted comment.

"Yeah, you do look pretty tired," she whispered. She lifted her hand and traced the skin above Chloe's cheek. "You've got bags under your eyes… They're big enough to carry our luggage."

Chloe swatted away Beca's teasing fingers but Beca was quick enough to move them out of the way and instead ran them through Chloe's hair. She continued stroking her hair until Chloe's eyes fluttered closed once again.

"Mmm," sighed Chloe. "I love it when you do that."

* * *

A few hours later, the sunlight desperately peeking through the gaps in the curtains became too much for the girls to ignore that it was nearing midday. One by one, they rose from their beds.

"Everyone up for a brunch meeting downstairs?" inquired Aubrey, crossing into the adjacent room while applying her face powder. Emily pattered in after Aubrey in her bathrobe, poking her head in to check on the occupants of the room.

Fat Amy was just getting out of the shower, while Beca was only getting out of bed. Chloe was by the mini-fridge taking out a bottle of water. Disappointed, Emily trudged back into her room to take her shower.

"Are you feeling better, Chlo?" Aubrey asked, moving beside the redhead to check her temperature.

"She woke up with a bad cough," Beca informed the blonde sleepily on her way to the bathroom. "She also kept kicking me in bed—"

"Ah-ah," Aubrey stopped Chloe's retort to keep the thermometer in her mouth. Once it was pulled out, Chloe immediately defended her actions. "Your feet were freezing!"

Beca smirked at her in reply before closing the bathroom door behind her.

"A hundred and two," announced Aubrey, reading the stick. "Well, it's still a fever but at least it's going down. A couple more hours in bed should do the trick."

"Fine by me," Chloe shrugged, already on her way back to lie down. "I don't ever want to leave this bed."

The Bellas—minus Chloe—continued getting ready for the day that, according to Stacie, was not for them to start relaxing; they needed to hit the ground running with promoting the Bellas as the new arrivals in the City of Angels. Their manager hadn't given them any specifics though, other than to be ready to leave by midday.

By the time Beca got out of the showers, Emily was sitting cross-legged on the floor, flipping through a magazine while Aubrey and Fat Amy sat on the sofa behind her, braiding her hair in pigtails like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz. It was obvious that one was more skilled than the other.

"Just admit it, Aubrey, you're really bad a giving instructions," Fat Amy defended. "So I put this one here, and _that_ one there—?"

"No, that goes between _those_ —"

Beca sat on the foot of her and Chloe's shared bed to rifle through her bag. "Hey, Chlo, do you remember where I put my sunscreen?"

Chloe poked her head out from the under the sheets and pointed at another bag.

"Thanks." As she applied the white lotion on her skin in generous amounts, Beca once again felt the bed vibrate with Chloe's chuckles. "What now?"

"You're really terrified of the sun, aren't you?"

"This skin doesn't _do_ sun," Beca said, gesturing all over herself. "Just five minutes outside in this climate without sunscreen and I turn into a candy cane."

Chloe turned her laugh into a sympathetic "aw" midway. "I guess I can't really empathize," she giggled. "The sun has been pretty good to me; I look damn good with a tan."

"I'm sure you do."

Unbeknownst to the two, across the room Emily was smiling ecstatically, the magazine in her hands frozen on the same page as she watched her two band mates interact. She smiled even wider when Beca realized the implications of her own words and blushed.

Above Emily, Aubrey was assessing Fat Amy's work. "I suppose that _resembles_ a braid," the singer conceded with a shrug.

"Good enough for me," said Fat Amy, rolling herself off the couch. "That really worked up an appetite—let's go, girls!"

Emily rose to her feet, keeping her eyes on Beca and Chloe, and motioned the two blondes to go on ahead. Beca was still sitting at Chloe's feet, speaking in a low, teasing voice, until Chloe gave Beca her blessing to leave with a giggle and a shooing gesture; and the badass drummer did—in Emily's eyes, almost regrettably.

"Oh, hey, you're still here," Beca said in surprise, catching sight of Emily hanging around the doorway on her way out. After letting room service enter with a tray of Chloe's soup, the two brunettes proceeded to the elevators.

* * *

"You okay there? You seem a little flushed," hummed Emily, her hands clasped behind her innocently as they walked down the carpeted hallway. "Maybe you've caught Chloe fever…"

Beca missed the hint and gave her a confused frown. "I feel fine, Em."

Emily rolled her eyes and shook Beca by the shoulder lightly. "Argh—why are you so frustrating!"

"Wha—?"

"Why can't you just admit that you have feelings for Chloe so we can all stop tiptoeing around the issue and finally celebrate our two band mates getting together!"

Beca opened her mouth to argue, only to close it again when she couldn't think of anything to rebut. Any normal person would have interpreted her earlier slip as flirting—and it was just her luck that Emily, the hyper-romantic, was in the room when it happened.

"What are you so afraid of?" the younger Bella pressed.

Beca pushed the elevator button. "It's not that simple," she said after a pause.

"Look, I don't claim to be an expert on relationships," Emily said in a reasonable tone. "I mean, I've only had the one, but I _know_ that feeling. And I can see it happening between you and Chloe—everything is already in place! It _can_ be simple if you want it to be."

Beca thought about it, and in thinking about it she asked herself if it was really as simple and Emily and Jesse seem to believed it was; that she and Chloe could really be… a couple.

"I just don't think I'm what Chloe really needs right now," Beca found herself honestly admitting. She didn't want to betray Chloe's trust and share her fears with Emily, so this was the most accurate excuse Beca could give.

"What do you mean?" frowned Emily.

"Maybe I can't give her what she wants," said Beca, stepping into the empty elevator as it opened. "Heck, I don't even _know_ what she wants. Even if we do like each other, that doesn't mean she _wants_ a relationship. She just left that Tom guy, after all."

"Hmm," Emily rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "I can't really say for sure _what_ Chloe wants but I've known her for a while and from what I see… all Chloe ever wanted was to be a part of something.

"Chloe loved being in her high school choir, and she joined all the clubs in college before she and Aubrey took their music seriously. She likes feeling like she belongs somewhere. I think that was why she was willing to quit the Bellas instead of going on tour with us when she couldn't sing; she'd rather stay at home—where her perfect family and her perfect boyfriend were, and where her future was all planned out—than feel like she didn't belong with _us_."

Beca stared unseeingly at the silver doors as they opened to the lobby, a frown forming between her brows. Emily had validated her worry that Chloe was unintentionally being pushed to feel left out. The timing of Chloe's sickness just made it worse; unless she recovered soon, Chloe would be missing more than just a Sunday brunch.

"But it makes you wonder, doesn't it?" continued Emily. "If she knew she wasn't going to be a part of the band—a least, not in the same way as she was before," she added hurriedly, "then why did she decide to come along anyway?"

"She said it didn't matter if she was up on stage or backstage," recalled Beca. "She just knew that she… that she wanted to be here."

 _This was never her dream._

 _I just know that this is where I want to be._

The more Beca thought about those two statements, the less either made sense.

"Pretty vague, huh." Emily turned around just before they entered the restaurant and gave Beca a slightly smug look. "What do you think that means?"

* * *

They were finishing up their lunch when Stacie arrived at the hotel, click-clacked across the lobby's marbled floors, and burst into the restaurant, turning heads and looking almost unrecognizable to her band.

"Whoa, is that Stacie?" Fat Amy pointed toward the entrance, where a towering woman in a shiny silver-grey dress and sunglasses, with shopping bags hooked on her elbow, began walking determinedly toward their table.

"I—didn't think you'd take my comment seriously," Beca said amusedly when Stacie lowered herself to a seat and removed her sunglasses. "But you do clean up well."

"I thought my return to the city was the perfect time for a new look so I washed some of the dye out," their manager grinned, running a hand through her flowing hair, now a nice, rich brown. "I also got you girls these." She distributed the shopping bags around the table. "Chloe and I always talked about our wardrobe wish-list for the Bellas, and since we're in LA now you girls need to up your glam game."

"So we're done with the coordinated outfits?" asked Aubrey, peeking into her bag.

"Well, only for the press events," said Stacie. "We thought it would be cool to highlight your different styles while you're not on stage. Apparently, your fans have been tagging your personalities, we might as well please them."

"Oh, my gosh—okay, I officially _love_ being a rock star," squealed Emily, hugging her new floral dress to her chest.

"And these past couple of weeks were, what, just so-so?" joked Fat Amy.

"Oh, there's more where that came from, Em," promised Stacie. "I'm just waiting for the paperwork on your wardrobe budget to come through. But you needed an outfit today 'cause you girls are going on a radio show in two hours to sort of 'announce' that you the Bellas are here in LA."

"Why do we need fancy outfits if we're going on a _radio_ show?" frowned Beca.

"The paps!"

"Excuse me?"

"Sorry, that's slang for paparazzi," Stacie explained. "Photographers. If there's even a slight chance you can get photographed, wouldn't you want to look your best? Now, go get dressed and meet me back here. I'll be waiting at the bar."

Before Beca left the table, Stacie tapped her on the elbow and handed her another shopping bag. "This one's for Chloe," she said with a wink. "I know she's staying in today but _I_ always feel better when someone gives me a gorgeous new dress."

"Thanks, Stace," Beca smiled, and then did a double take before walking away. "Oh, and what station are we going on?"

"KMPC-710."

"Great. Thanks."

Beca stopped by the front desk on her way to the elevator to ask Gail a favor.

* * *

"… _I can't take you doin' that thing you do!"_

"And that was the hit song, _'That Thing You Do,'_ by the lovely Bellas from Barden all the way out in the east," the deejay said smoothly. Across the booth from him, the girls were sitting close together, sharing two microphones among themselves. "You're here with me on KMPC and here with _me_ are The Barden Bellas themselves!"

The deejay pointed to his mic to indicate that theirs were on. "Hi," the girls chorused.

"Now, an _all-female_ rock band—you don't see that everyday, do you?" Before any of the girls could say anything, the deejay continued. "Tell me, who are your influences? Which artists popped your cher—oops. Apologies, ladies, that language might not be appropriate for your delicate sensibilities."

Aubrey scowled but Fat Amy took over the duty of responding. "Not at all. In fact, while we're on the subject of _penetrating_ the industry, we've found that some artists are more _treble_ than they're worth, if you know what I mean—"

Stacie glared at Fat Amy and signaled for her to change the subject since she was essentially making an innuendo about a sixteen-year-old's relationship with a Treblemaker. (Fat Amy later defended that it could have been anyone in the Bellas and anyone in the Trebles.)

"O-ho!" the deejay chuckled. "That was so juicy I may need some buns and a side of fries!"

"We look up to _strong_ , female artists when it comes to our music," interjected Aubrey, pulling focus back to their music. "Women who really express what life is like for the other fifty percent of the population."

"You mean pining for boys?"

Whether the deejay meant to be provocative or not, Aubrey responded coldly—despite Stacie's silent warnings not to—by pointing out, "Men have built a multi-million dollar industry out of writing songs about women—"

"Which is why we can't wait to get to the studio to show you guys our other songs," Beca added quickly before Aubrey decided she was due for her monthly discussion on gender. "If you liked the vibe of _'That Thing You Do_ , _'_ then you're going to love what we have in store."

Stacie relaxed slightly and gave Beca a thumbs-up for her passable diversion. The deejay, on the other hand, seemed drawn to Beca's enthusiasm. It was ironic, since it came from the least outspoken member. "The drummer has laid down the beat! Well, then, you can put me down for a copy! Folks, you've just heard from The Barden Bellas—"

"Sorry, can I just say a quick hello to Chloe Beale," Beca added hurriedly, sensing their time on the air coming to an end, "who's sick in bed right now but I hope remembered to turn on the radio?"

"Feel better soon, Chlo!" the Bellas chorused in harmony.

"Indeed. Get well soon, Ms. Beale," the deejay crooned. "It's such a fine sunny day out here in LA to be stuck in bed… all day."

* * *

"Hey," Chloe greeted with a smile when the Bellas filed into the hotel room later that afternoon. "I heard you guys on the radio! And thank you for the message; it was really sweet."

"Did it make you feel any better?" Emily asked hopefully, plopping down on Fat Amy's bed. Stacie had called for a doctor to come in and check on Chloe while they were away, so Beca picked up the small sheet on their bedside with his notes.

"It sure did," said Chloe, smiling up at Beca as she read the proof.

"Cool!" Emily swung her legs excitedly. "Does that mean you can come with us to the beach tomorrow?"

"Well, it's not technically a beach," corrected Fat Amy. "It's a set on the Warner Brothers studio made to _look_ like a beach—which is ridiculous since LA is right next to the coast."

The girls suddenly whipped their heads toward the mini-kitchen where Fat Amy stood with a glass of water in her hand, looking disarmed by their stares. "What? Isn't it?"

"You're still here," noted Aubrey.

"Yeah…?"

"Usually after a gig you're, you know…" Emily raised her fingers in air quotes. "'Out.'"

"But we didn't come from a gig," Fat Amy pointed out.

"Never stopped you before," snorted Beca.

"Well, then, maybe I just miss hanging out with my girls, all right?" Fat Amy shrugged defensively. "Besides, if you really must know, I wanted to end at one hundred and fifteen. It's a lucky number."

"A _hundred and fifteen?_ " Emily shook her head in amazement. "I don't think I even know that many people."

"Anyway," drawled Fat Amy, hoping to get the attention off of her, " _can_ Red finally come out of her hidey hole tomorrow, Nurse Beca?"

Beca threw Fat Amy a scowl while Chloe sat up on her elbows and asked, "What exactly is happening tomorrow?"

"That movie Stacie was talking about," Beca replied. "Apparently there's a scene involving a beach party and we're playing the band in the background."

"They asked us to be there at sunrise," Emily added with a pout. "I think it might end up taking the entire day."

"What about your meeting with Sammy Siler?" Chloe asked tentatively, sneaking a glance toward Aubrey, who was leaning against the connecting door with her arms folded, staring at a spot on the carpet.

The rest of the Bellas also glanced briefly at Aubrey, hinting that the news didn't go down well with the bandleader when it was first told.

"Er, he's on vacation in Mexico at the moment," Emily finally replied after an awkward silence.

"Stacie said he'd probably be in by Wednesday," added Beca, "which is also when he'll sign the papers to green-light our recording."

"Oh… But, hey, that's not so bad!" Chloe said brightly. "That means you don't have to go to work so soon. We have more time to go sight-seeing!"

Unmoved by Chloe's pushes to look on the bright side, Aubrey sighed and left the room. Disappointment filled Chloe's eyes and she lowered them sadly.

Fortunately, Emily was quick to dissipate the bad feelings. "You're right, Chlo!" she chirped. "Maybe after the shoot we can go to the _actual_ beach—or, or, or!" Her eyes widened and she jumped off the bed and hopped up and down. "We could go to _Disneyland!_ Oh, please, pretty please, can we go to Disneyland?"

After they got over the initial shock of Emily's shrieking, Chloe and Beca exchanged grins. "I don't know…" said Beca, feigning hesitation and causing Emily to drop to her knees and chant, "Please, please, _please!_ "

"Oh, come on, Beca," Chloe chastised playfully, aware that Beca was only teasing. "Look at her—she really wants to go."

"But, Chlo, it's a whole-day affair…"

" _Please, please, please!_ "

"Then we're just going to have to make a day of it," Chloe said matter-of-factly.

Emily gasped. "Is that a yes?" she asked, coming up from the ground.

"You've got our vote!" said Chloe, glad to be speaking on Beca's behalf for once.

Emily looked at Beca for confirmation. The drummer shrugged and said, "Apparently my answer is 'yes.'"

Emily whipped her head around. "Ames?" she said hopefully.

Fat Amy rubbed her hands together. "A whole day to take on over two dozen speciality restaurants? Count me in!"

Emily frowned. "That's not what—"

"Em, she said yes. Just take it as a win," Chloe advised with a laugh.

"Now all you need is…" Beca jerked her thumb toward the wall separating their two rooms.

"Oh, don't worry about Bree. I'm sure she'll come around," Emily said optimistically, though Beca detected a hint of doubt in her tone. "And... I guess I'd have to get Stacie's permission, too, huh?"

"Hey, you should invite her along, too!" said Chloe.

"Yeah, I'd like to see her surrounded by little kids," smirked Beca, "trying to get around them on her high heels…"

"She'd probably just snap at them and tell them to get back to their blocking," giggled Emily.

Fat Amy joined in. "Nah, she wouldn't even get near them in the first place. She'd smooth talk their parents into thinking that taking their kids home was the best idea in the world."

The girls continued to crack lighthearted jokes at their manager's expense until their sides ached from laughter.

It was during moments like these—that were becoming increasingly rare since they started their tour—that the Bellas felt like they were still just a ragtag group of musicians back in Barden. They had made new friends and colleagues along their journey and hundreds of thousands of people fall in love with their music, but nothing had been quite as pleasant for any of them as the feeling they got ending the day with each other.

But even with Fat Amy now 'retired' from her sexual walkabout, they still weren't complete.

Chloe had hoped that being in LA would make Aubrey less tense—and she really believed it did when Stacie broke the news after their performance the previous night—but now that the Bellas were so close that they could almost taste their new record, having it pushed further away felt like a cruel tease.

Beca, on her part, had always admired Aubrey's ambition and drive, and she thought being this close to her dream would also have her constantly on the edge. But it wasn't the case. Maybe it was Chloe's sickness taking most of her attention for the past few days, but for some reason Beca didn't find it as frustrating as Aubrey did to have to wait a few more days.

But that feeling—the feeling that they were somehow no longer all on the same page when it came to the seriousness of the band's career—was only just beginning to surface.

* * *

 **Response to Reviews:**

 **jalex1** (Oct. 29) - So sorry for the long wait then! Beca just can't help herself – protecting our precious cinnamon roll is pretty much the whole world's responsibility at this point. Thanks!

 **Guest** (Oct. 29) - I promise I won't! And I'll try my best to keep that promise haha. We're nearing the end so hopefully I don't run out of steam. Thank you for your support!

 **Reader Fan** (Oct. 29) - Awesome! I've never made anyone's night before haha. Hmm... a scare, huh?

 **RJRMovieFan** (Oct. 29) - I wish I could do more for the other characters and their plot lines, though. I had this plan to show the Bellas and the Trebles having fun together on the tour during the 'montage' chapter(s) but it proved too tiring to write : So here it stays, in my head. Thanks!

* * *

 **A/N:** I hope to have the last 1/3 posted within the next couple of days as well. It'll be shorter but by then I'll probably have an idea of how long it'll take to get the next chapter up, since it will be... let's just say, different. Until then, thanks for reading!


	10. Chapter Ten

**A/N:** Let me just go ahead and dispel all your worries about Chloe's health. She's fine, guys! This isn't going to be one of those stories haha.

* * *

 **CHAPTER TEN**

" _Cut!_ "

Beca lifted her prop hat and wiped her sweaty forehead with a handkerchief. The sun was directly overhead and the Bellas had been on set for over four hours, dressed in cheap pirate costumes and pretending to play music for half the time.

They were playing on a platform made to look like the outside of a restaurant called the 'Prawn Palace.' The swimsuit-clad 'beachgoers' that littered the set had stopped dancing when filming stopped and casually began chatting among themselves.

Beca's makeup was trickling down the side of her face with sweat but the fake double eye-patch prop she wore to mimic her trademark sunglasses made it almost impossible to do anything about it. While everyone waited for the director to finish guiding his actors, she looked around her three-piece drum set at the other Bellas.

Aubrey, whose temper rose at thrice the rate the sun did, got the worst end of the costume deal—the full coat, boots, and pants—and was pretend-playing a guitar with a head shaped like an 18th century pistol.

The director wanted more visual balance in the band's instruments so Emily was idly pressing keys on a keyboard instead of strings on her guitar, while Fat Amy was marveling at her saxophone. Emily's face was beginning to turn a violent pink, given that her bandana didn't do much to shade it against the sun, making Beca thankful for having put on an extra thick layer of sunscreen that morning.

At least Fat Amy was enjoying herself despite earlier reservations about the sun.

"Hey, check this out," she said cheerfully to the others. She blew into the mouthpiece and emitted a ghastly noise, as though someone were murdering a herd of seals.

"This is humiliating," Aubrey said sourly. "We have a Top Ten record."

"Well, the _Bellas_ do," Fat Amy pointed out, her enthusiasm undeterred by Aubrey's lack thereof. "But right now we're not the Barden Bellas, we're Gunpowder Gertie and the Prawn Palace Pirates!"

" _All right—positions, everyone!_ " announced the director through his megaphone. " _Let's have the music play… and… ACTION!_ "

The second the instrumental surf music blasted through the speakers, everyone returned to playing their part: the extras danced and the band pretend-played.

Beca expertly waved her sticks in the air, bringing them a fraction of an inch from the surface of the percussion instruments around her. Even though it was fake, the effort was still extremely tiring especially under the hot sun. She looked jealously past the camera and director to where Stacie and Chloe were sitting on chairs under a large umbrella, sipping iced tea and observing the filming process.

The music softened drastically and the director instructed his actors to repeat lines of dialogue in different tones, so everyone had to continue dancing and playing in silence. After almost half a day of this, the Bellas were used to it.

Fat Amy was having a blast pretend-playing her saxophone, doing unrealistic one-handed stunts while dancing around the stage, and was the only one disappointed when the director called it a wrap.

" _Great job, everyone—and a huge thanks to the Barden Bellas, who did a great job playing Gunpowder Gertie and the Prawn Palace Pirates!"_

The cast and crew applauded, and the Bellas, in spite of themselves, took a bow. Stacie and Chloe approached the stage carrying bottles of water as they were praising the extras around them.

"Oh, wow, it's a good thing we got those close-ups early, huh," commented Stacie, lifting her sunglasses to the top of her head and scrutinizing their melting faces.

"Yeah, meanwhile _you two_ were having the time of your lives behind camera," grumbled Beca.

"You poor baby," teased Chloe, handing out bottles to the girls. "Aw, Em, your face looks like a Georgia peach!"

"What?" Emily gasped and put a hand to her cheek and winced when she felt it sting. "Oh, no!"

"Don't worry, the same thing happened to me when I first moved here," laughed Stacie. "I've got something at home to help with that. I'll drop it off at the hotel later."

"That's great, Stacie, could you also maybe drop off an itinerary that has us in a recording studio by the end of the week?"

They all turned their heads toward Aubrey, hoping that her expression would reveal a light-hearted sarcasm to her words. Alas, it didn't. But thankfully, whether she was tired of Aubrey's nagging or she actually thought it was justified, Stacie did not engage. "I'll do what I can," was all she said, in a tone that wasn't icy but serious enough for Aubrey to accept without further comment.

The Bellas didn't linger on set, since they all wanted to go back to the cool comfort of their hotel rooms, so Stacie dropped them off before heading to her office at Residual Heat's headquarters.

* * *

At around half past three, Stacie visited the girls as promised to drop off a salve for Emily's worsening sunburn. The brunette had been obsessing over her reflection ever since they returned from the movie set and was relieved to finally be able to do something about the red splotches.

"I also got these from the office," Stacie said, pulling out stacks of envelopes, one much thinner than all the others. "These are letters from your family," she handed the smaller stack to Beca and set the larger ones on the table. "And these are fan mail."

When Beca removed the rubber band and began distributing their letters, Stacie added, "Oh, Chloe, our intern said he couldn't find yours; the post office must've sent it back to the return address."

"Oh, okay. No problem." Chloe lifted one of the larger stacks. "Do we answer _every_ single one of these?"

"Hey, those are just the fan mail from the tour. Just wait 'til you release your album," chuckled Stacie. "The Trebles were so overwhelmed with theirs; they were writing letters for _weeks_. But after a certain point, you can cut down the number of replies until, eventually, it's okay to just respond personally to the really special ones and send a generic message to the rest. But it's really your decision."

"My decision?" repeated Chloe.

"Well, the others get a say, of course, but soon enough they'll get too busy to answer any at all so it's usually Residual Heat's PR department who deals with excessive fan mail," nodded Stacie. "The Trebles have their own person here in LA."

"Hmm… I think we should try respond to all of these," Chloe said, gesturing at all the mail. "They were fans during the tour and made the effort to write even before the Bellas' rise to the top. I think we should work on cultivating a good relationship with them while they're still few. When the album is released, we're guaranteed that a group of loyal people will be interested in it and would want as many of their friends to hear it, too. So it's sort of like free marketing for the Bellas."

Stacie smiled, looking impressed. "I never thought of it that way. Usually our policy is just respond until the artist gets big enough that it wouldn't matter. That's a great idea, Chloe!"

"Well, you're gonna need a lot of help to get through all of this," Beca said, running her thumb against the edges of the envelopes. "This looks like a couple of hundred letters."

"Five hundred and twelve," nodded Stacie. Chloe's eyes widened as she realized the undertaking she had just signed up for.

"We'll help you," said Emily, emerging from the bathroom with a greenish-white paste all over her face. "Won't we?" she added, looking at Fat Amy and Aubrey sitting side by side on the sofa.

"Better than doing nothing," shrugged Aubrey. She rose and walked over to the mini-kitchen.

"I've never had fan mail before," said Fat Amy, also approaching them and taking a fistful of letters.

"Great! So let's split them up—"

"Maybe we can split them into piles for each state?" suggested Chloe. "It'd be cool to know where the Bellas are the most popular."

"Ooh, yeah!"

Stacie smiled as the girls began unbinding more stacks and swung her purse over her shoulder. "Great teamwork, girls. I'd better go—I'll leave a message with Gail if anything comes up tomorrow."

"Where are you off to?" asked Beca, looking up from the piles of letters. "Hot date?"

"Wearing this?" Stacie gestured up and down her fashionable yet obviously business-oriented outfit. "No way. I'm going back to the office. I've been slacking on some of the Trebles' stuff."

"Oh, they'll understand," Fat Amy waved a hand dismissively. "They know we're better than them. The Bellas are the new stars of Residual Heat now!"

Stacie merely rolled her eyes and waved goodbye on her way out.

* * *

"So these states are the ones with the most letters," Aubrey waved a hand over a few tall stacks moments later. "We're pretty popular in Georgia, but not so much from Barden. I guess people back home don't appreciate being put on the map thanks to us."

"We also got a few all the way from New England," said Emily, sounding surprised. She fanned out several envelopes in front of her. "There's like—see? Some from Massachusetts, a few from Connecticut and Maine…"

"Hey, didn't you say you were from Maine?" Fat Amy asked Beca.

Beca stared at the small pile on the ground beside Emily. "Yeah..."

"Cool, they could be fans of yours," Emily grinned. Then she held them out to Beca. "Here, you can answer them. It's your turf so you know best how to relate to them or whatever."

Beca took the letters and rifled through them, the apprehension growing after each passed envelope. It wasn't long before her suspicions were confirmed and she was looking at two more letters from her former band mates.

"Awesome," she said, though her sweaty palms indicated that it was anything but. "I don't know them but… it's nice to have support from back home."

Beca was starting to get the feeling that someone—Chloe—had noticed her absent-mindedly thumbing the corner of the envelopes, so she set them aside and joined the ongoing discussion about what would be their standard reply and, for Fat Amy's benefit, what was _not_ an appropriate response.

* * *

The Bellas worked on their letters late into the evening, ordering pizza for dinner and playing music from the radio to keep themselves awake. Eventually, Aubrey and Fat Amy had to carry a knocked-out Emily back to her bed, and they all agreed to turn in for the day.

Beca and Chloe were equally tired, but during a brief conversation after climbing into bed together, they had come up with a fun idea to reward themselves—particularly Emily—for their hard work.

* * *

"Good morning, you two," greeted Gail as soon as she noticed Chloe and Beca alighting the elevators. "Chloe, I'm glad to see you're feeling better."

"Thanks, Gail," smiled Chloe. "We were wondering if Stacie left any messages for us?"

"If she did, they didn't reach me," said Gail in assurance. "But it is still quite early for messages. Do you have something planned for the day?"

Chloe exchanged looks with Beca. "Well, if Stacie doesn't say anything about another press event today, we thought we'd surprise Emily with a trip to Disneyland," replied Beca. "And we thought maybe you could help us with that? We don't really know our way around."

Gail's face split into a wide grin. "It would be my pleasure! Hold on, let me make a few calls—"

When Gail's gloved fingers were just a hair's breadth from it, the telephone suddenly rang. She picked it up deftly and automatically answered in her pleasant tone. "Avalon Hotel. This is Gail. What can I do for you? … Oh, Miss Conrad, just in time—"

Chloe and Beca looked up in surprise and mild disappointment. Gail handed the receiver over to Chloe and she put it between Beca and herself.

" _Girls, get dressed—quickly! I just found out Mr. Siler cut his vacation short. He'll be at the label sometime today, so the Bellas should be ready to meet him as soon as he is._ "

"Oh, okay," replied Chloe. Something must have come through her tone because Stacie then asked, " _Sorry, did you have plans?_ "

"Not exactly. We were _just_ about to ask Gail to help us plan a trip to Disneyland," said Beca. "Em wanted to go and she was exhausted after last night. We thought we'd reward her."

" _Ah. Well, I really suggest you to put it off until our schedule is more solid. I'm sorry._ "

"No, it's fine. We understand," insisted Chloe. "We just thought we'd be waiting a while for Mr. Siler."

" _So did I. I'm surprised though, Aubrey approved of this?_ "

"Well, we took the 'act now, think later' approach," smirked Beca. "But we thought getting her to see more of California would cheer her up."

" _Honestly, at this point_ _I think getting her to see the inside of a studio is the only thing that'll cheer her up. But, sure, we can talk about Disneyland later, okay? I'll swing by to pick you up in two hours._ "

The girls said goodbye, took a rain check from Gail, who promised to have everything ready when they were, and headed back upstairs to wake the others.

* * *

"Sorry—hold on!" Chloe cried and rushed forward, putting herself between the Bellas and the cameras. "Let's just fix the record…" She pried the small black disc from the four sets of fingers and righted it. "There we go."

Chloe stepped back in line with the photographers and they snapped away at the Bellas holding up their record with the Residual Heat logo in the backdrop.

The Bellas had arrived at the label a few hours earlier and were immediately whisked off to get their hair and make-up done. The president, Sammy Siler, was expected to arrive by midday and had just enough time for a quick photoshoot with the Bellas and a press statement about Residual Heat's future partnership with the all-female rock band.

"You in the glasses!" A man with a notepad in his hands called out to Beca cheekily. "Are those prescription or do you just wear them to look cool?"

Beca saw Chloe scowl at the man, insulted that he had reduced something that became a nationwide fashion statement to just 'wanting to look cool.'

"Actually, it's so that I can roll my eyes at idiots without them knowing," Beca snapped, and for a moment everyone turned to her in surprise, but the man actually liked her answer.

"Heh, so it's true what they say," he wagged a finger at Beca, smiling, "drummers have the most attitude."

The media representatives laughed good-naturedly and took that as a sign that the Bellas were open to answering questions.

"Uh, Miss _Fat Amy_ —as you prefer to be called—how does it feel as a British woman in America to be going up against The Beatles?" another reporter asked.

"First of all, I'm _Australian_ ," corrected Fat Amy. "And—"

Suddenly, a shout from the back of the room caused the press to turn around and start cheering. "Sammy's here!"

Emerging from the elevators in an entourage of beautiful women and intimidating bodyguards was Sammy Siler, president of Residual Heat Records. He was a man in his early forties, dressed in a suave, velvet black and purple suit. His completely smooth head reflected as much light as the jewelry around his neck, wrists, and fingers did.

The crowd suddenly rushed toward him, leaving the Bellas standing alone in the middle of the lobby.

"Hey, Sammy! How was Acapulco?" one of the reporters asked, thrusting his recorder out.

"Terrible. Why do you think I came back so early?" Sammy replied in a loud, cocky tone of voice. He looked like a man that no one could (or dared to) refute, judging by how most of them laughed at his assessment.

"I heard it's 'cause ya girlfriend got upset with you over the bedroom arrangements," teased the same reporter who had harassed Beca about her shades earlier. Apparently he was known—and liked—for pushing the envelope on softball questions, since Sammy playfully replied, "Get outta here! Who let this lunatic in the building?"

The crowd around Sammy followed him like a cult, asking all sorts of industry questions until he finally joined the Bellas in the lobby.

"All right, all right, enough with that," Sammy waved his hand dismissively at a question about drug use in the music industry and whether he encouraged or discouraged his artists from taking part. "We're here to talk about my latest catch, gentlemen: The Barden Bellas."

Sammy squeezed himself between Aubrey and Emily and wrapped his arms around their waists unthreateningly. He flashed a quick, dazzling smile for the cameras and quickly returned to his pitch.

"They're on the Top Ten—the fastest rising record in Billboard history _and_ a sensation among _all_ demographics. Let me tell you a story—I was up late one night, driving down a Detroit street, and what do I see? I see this beat up, dingy ol' dive, right? And it's _filled_ with kids—and all the old geezers, too. Why? The _Barden Bellas_ are playing, that's why!"

With his fast-paced, shoot-from-the-hip manner of speech, Sammy was an effective storyteller, and that was probably what made him a good salesman, too. Beca had no doubt in her mind that Mr. Siler hadn't stepped foot in Detroit in the last few weeks (neither had the Bellas, for that matter) but his emphatic hand gestures and body language painted a picture so clear that the media around him began nodding impressively.

"So I hear them—they're gold, absolute gold—and I sign them," continued Sammy.

In one fell swoop he took credit for Stacie's work, and the stunned Bellas all looked at their manager indignantly. Stacie gave them an assuring look telling them that it was no big deal, but they were still taken aback by Mr. Siler's brazenness.

"Give us a month—two at the most—and we'll be knockin' those shaggy-haired Brits all the way back to their castles," Sammy finished to a round of raucous laughter. "No offense, Miss," he added with a quick jerk of his head at Fat Amy before untangling himself from the group.

"Again, I'm not—" Fat Amy began, but Sammy was already ushering the press toward the food table and answering more questions by himself.

"Well, that was… disarmingly quick," said Fat Amy as the girls watched the president of the label and his adoring crowd of media reps grab sandwiches.

"Does he always take credit for the work you agents do?" Aubrey asked Stacie once she approached.

"I'm just a junior rep," shrugged Stacie. "It helps the band's reputation if there's more star power behind the discovery. He spoke to me about it personally after I got the Treblemakers signed, and I understood him. It just makes good business sense."

"It's a rotten system," said Aubrey.

"He's a good man," defended Stacie. "He's just being smart about your careers. And I'm still working my way up, paying my dues—it's the way things are."

Aubrey didn't seem comforted by that, and she folded her arms and asked, "And our studio contract?"

"The papers are on his desk, I made sure of it," replied Stacie, and before Aubrey could get worked up about another delay, she suggested they all grab some lunch as well. "I know you haven't had any breakfast 'cause I picked you up so early—go on."

Fat Amy didn't need telling twice and she skipped toward the food, with Emily following not far behind.

Stacie then turned to the band's PR manager. "Can I talk shop with you just for a second, Chlo?"

Before leaving, Chloe mouthed to Beca, "Please stay with Aubrey?"

Beca nodded dutifully and remained standing beside the blonde, despite the growling from her own stomach. "So, uh," she began hopefully, "want to get some food?"

She wasn't sure if Aubrey was even going to answer her; Aubrey had been staring straight ahead, frozen, for the past minute. Beca followed her gaze and watched Mr. Siler holding up a slice of bread and bragging about how he learned to make the perfect sandwich from some famous chef in New York.

"Yeah, let's go."

Beca didn't register Aubrey's words until she was looking at the back of Aubrey's head. Beca jolted herself into focus and attempted to catch up to her in quick, brisk steps. But her scrawny legs couldn't keep up with Aubrey's long and determined ones and Aubrey arrived at the table faster.

Beca's heart leaped into her throat when she realized what Aubrey's plan had been.

"Excuse me, Mr. Siler," Aubrey said, cutting into the man's appraisal of how thinly sliced the ham was. "I'm Aubrey Posen, lead singer of the Barden Bellas—"

"What the—who are you?" Sammy did a double take when he realized that someone was actually talking to him, which meant he hadn't heard a word Aubrey had said.

"I wrote ' _That Thing You Do,_ ' as well as a number of other songs for the Bellas," Aubrey barreled on. "I was wondering if we could talk about the album—"

"Beca!" Stacie accidentally bumped into Beca in her hurry to intervene the moment she saw Aubrey speaking to her boss. "What the hell is she doing? Oh, no—"

"Look here, Miss," Sammy said, sounding agitated but thankfully still in a decent temper. "I just came back from a disappointing vacation to see a stack of papers on my desk that I need to sign. Do you think you're the _only_ artist who needs studio time? Do you think it's that _easy_ to schedule sessions for, _and_ finance, your album—?"

Stacie hurried forward before the encounter turned into a full-blown scene, and Chloe smacked Beca on the shoulder. "I told you to stay with her!" she hissed.

"I thought you meant for moral support," Beca hissed back.

"You supported her on _this_?" Chloe waved a hand toward Stacie apologizing profusely to her frowning boss while inconspicuously shoving Aubrey away from the president. But Chloe quickly put on a neutral expression when Aubrey and Stacie returned to them.

"Okay, I'm not going to say that was a terrible idea," Stacie was saying to a fuming Aubrey, "but it was a really, _really_ bad one."

"He doesn't even know us!" Aubrey spat. "And he called _you_ 'Stephie'!"

"To be fair, there _is_ a Stephie in Accounting, and he hasn't seen me as a brunette yet—"

"You're making excuses for him!" accused Aubrey. "All he has to do is sign one lousy document for us to start _doing our jobs_ and he doesn't even give a _fraction_ of a shit about it."

Stacie pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. "Look, I promise—no, bear with me, Aubrey," she added when her words were met with immediate skepticism. "I _promise_ to have the papers signed by the end of the day, but _please_ try to understand that even if you _do_ have that paper in your hands, it doesn't mean we go into the studio tomorrow. It could be the next day, or the next week—we'd still have to follow the schedule the recording studio gives us."

Aubrey pursed her lips and folded her arms, but that was the end of it; she couldn't say anything on account of everything so far being reasonable. She would have to be satisfied with Stacie's word.

"Which is why," continued their manager, "it is important for the Bellas to spend their downtime _wisely_. Doing press events does nothing but help the band, and…" She shot a quick glance toward Chloe and Beca. "So does taking a day off to relax and have fun with each other. You know, I heard Disneyland is great in the summertime."

The two gave her a grateful smile and Chloe looked at Aubrey hopefully. The blonde gave a small, noncommittal nod to show that she understood, although not that she was all in for a trip to the theme park.

"Good," sighed Stacie. "Now, you really should have your lunch before Fat Amy clears the tables..."

"No worries, she's on the phone."

The four girls jumped at the sound of Emily's voice. "Where have you been?" gasped Chloe.

Emily scowled. "Come on, guys, I'm a big girl. I can walk around without needing a hand to hold. Stacie told us to get lunch so I got us some." She raised a tray of food and Beca reached out in grateful desperation.

"Fat Amy's on the phone?" Stacie asked curiously, biting off a carrot stick.

"Yeah, it came from the receptionist's desk," Emily jerked her thumb toward the entrance of the lobby. "I dunno who it was."

"You don't think she's…?" Chloe said nervously.

"A wanted criminal in Australia?" finished Beca. "The thought has crossed my mind more than once this summer, yes."

"Having trouble with her visa, silly!"

Stacie shook her head. "There should be no problem as long as she's still technically enrolled at a university. If I could guess, I'd say she has an overzealous fan. Wouldn't be surprising if he was one of her hundred and fifteen lays."

* * *

Dinner at the hotel restaurant later that evening was filled with awkward silence, punctuated by even more awkward clatters of utensils against plates. Barely touching her food, Aubrey was clearly the soul-sucking elephant in the room. There had been no word from Stacie since they left Residual Heat, and every hour that passed—and there were many—got tenser and tenser for the Bellas, who had spent the day lounging in their hotel room waiting for Stacie's call.

While Beca was content to continue in this all-too-familiar dinner dynamic, Chloe and Emily were struggling to decide whether to address the issue outright or distract it with happier thoughts. Beca caught Emily opening and closing her mouth more than once and assumed that the latter wasn't so easy.

"Well, the silence and palpable tension have been pleasant and all..." said Fat Amy, dabbing the sides of her mouth with a napkin before throwing it down, "but I've got plans. See ya."

"Wait, what plans?" Emily asked in surprise.

"The kind that involves sucking chocolate off of various body parts."

"Aurgh—I thought you were done with that?" Emily called after Fat Amy's retreating form and received no reply.

That left the four of them at the table to return to picking at their food in silence. Until, finally, Chloe and Emily made eye contact and telepathically agreed that it was time to break it.

"Bree…"

"It's fine, Chloe. You don't have to say anything." Aubrey wasn't oblivious to their glances and exchanges.

"But I do," Chloe argued. "Bree, I know you're upset about Mr. Siler. We _all_ are—"

"Are you, though?" Aubrey challenged skeptically. "Because Amy's back to doing— _god_ knows who—and you're planning trips to Disneyland instead of planning which songs we'll be putting on the album."

Emily's eyes widened at the mention of Disneyland, only to be filled with guilt a second later. "I—I didn't mean to cause anyone trouble…"

"You didn't," Beca assured her quickly.

"Bree, all I'm saying is that we're on your side," Chloe said gently. "I don't want you to feel like you can't talk to us when things upset you."

"What do you want to talk about?" Aubrey's fork fell on her plate with a loud clatter. "How we've been asked to leave the tour and fly to LA by some asshole who doesn't even know who we are?"

"I'm sure he _knows_ —"

"Or how we were promised an album—which was our _priority_ when we signed, not the tour—but now that we're here, it's being held up by trivial paperwork?"

"Stacie already said there's more to it than that—"

"Or do you want me to talk about this sick feeling I have in my gut that all of them—Smith, Stacie, Siler—are all just a bunch of snakes trying to milk our hit for as long as they can before they dump us?"

Aubrey's words were met with stunned silence. It had never occurred to them to think that badly of Residual Heat. Granted, Mr. Smith and Mr. Siler weren't the most feminist of men in the industry, but the Bellas had wholeheartedly trusted _Stacie_ since they left Atlanta.

"Who knows, maybe Stacie really is looking out for us," Aubrey said, though her tone suggested she didn't think so. "But I can't be the only one suspicious of why all we do here in LA is promote ourselves, when having our song at number seven on the Top Ten should be enough to get people interested. Or why we've been signed up to do these radio shows, movies, and TV, that have _nothing_ to do with making music—but then I realized it. Didn't you read our contracts? We get ten cents for every dollar our record makes and Residual Heat gets the rest! This industry is all about _selling_."

When no one said a word to counter her suspicions, Aubrey tossed her napkin on the table wearily and stood up. "I'm going for a walk," she said dryly before leaving the three in a mix of emotions.

Emily was anxious about the fight her two sister-figures almost just had, already thinking of ways to get them to make up. Beca was fuming over the way Aubrey wouldn't let Chloe get a word in edgewise, causing her to go back to having low spirits so soon after recovering from the flu. Then Beca decided she'd had enough of seeing Chloe's opinions getting trampled on by someone too stubborn to loosen up.

"Why do you let her do that to you?" she asked, her tone somewhere between hard and soft.

"She just needs to vent," sighed Chloe.

"But still…"

Chloe stared thoughtfully at the saltshaker for a long while before she spoke again. "You once asked me… what Aubrey's deal was, remember?"

Beca nodded. "You said she has high standards, that she's a perfectionist. But I don't see how that explains her treating you this way."

Chloe took a hesitant breath. "The thing is," she began reluctantly, "Aubrey… she's had to work hard all her life. Not money or anything like that, it's just that… nothing she ever did seemed good enough for her parents. _You_ know what it's like at home for her," she grimaced at Emily, who nodded sadly.

"I overheard my parents one time saying," Emily swallowed nervously, uncomfortable with gossiping, "that Mrs. Posen was a—a 'bland' woman who cared about nothing except keeping an image and status. And they said it wasn't surprising since Mr. Posen was hardly home."

"Aubrey had to earn their attention with material things—awards, trophies—things that were permanent and obvious that they could see as a sign of her achievements. Even if the attention lasted for only a minute over dinner, she craved it _that_ much," said Chloe. "And because of how hard she worked for everything, she grew to despise people who sailed through life without deserving their success—"

"So that's why that petty bake sale made her hate Stacie so much," Beca realized.

"And why I always had to be careful around my own best friend," confessed Chloe. "I love Aubrey like a sister but I couldn't always tell her everything. Growing up, my father's influence and position gave me opportunities that I knew I didn't deserve on my own and that Aubrey despised in other people, so I tried to show that I hated it, too.

"When Aubrey got the idea to start taking our music seriously, I saw it as a chance to rebel against the future my father was handing out to me. Aubrey saw it as possibly her biggest achievement in life, and she wanted to do it on her _own_ terms—she wasn't going to settle for what's popular. She wanted to make something of herself; let the world hear _her_ voice. So, please, try to understand that when she lashes out like this, it's because she wants it _so_ badly."

* * *

Nobody had spoken for a while after Chloe shed light on the difficulty of being Aubrey's closest friend.

Beca always assumed, because of her parents' divorce, that she had the claim on family issues. But when she thought about her life before _and_ after the divorce, she realized that her mother had always been there to support her and her father, as much of a pompous jerk Beca thought he was, only ever wanted what was best for her. That type of family life was better than what Aubrey must have had, even with parents still married to each other.

But even though she felt sorry for Aubrey, Beca couldn't bring herself to accept that this was the way things were going to be. It didn't seem likely that Aubrey was going to lighten up before their album was recorded and published, and Beca was worried about what her sour mood and distrust were already doing to the band. It was not a good environment to begin building their discography.

Beca rubbed her temples, the mental exhaustion of having to think about your career at the age of eighteen giving her a headache. She looked at Chloe and Emily, and then out the glass windows of the restaurant. Outside looked clear and fresh, precisely what their heads needed.

"Hey, let's get out of here," she said simply. "We could drive up and down Sunset Boulevard. Or go to Hollywood."

Their replies were slow to start, but eventually the two were nodding their heads and rising from the table. They had just left the restaurant and were on their way to ask Gail for a taxi when a shout from the elevators got their attention.

"Emily!"

Clumsily making his way through a small crowd of hotel patrons, Benji stumbled to a halt before them. But he wasn't standing for long, as Emily launched herself at him with a cry. " _Benji!_ What—how—?"

"The Trebles got pulled out of the tour, too," he explained breathlessly after Emily released her arms around his neck. "We don't really know why yet but Stacie called and when she calls, well, we answer."

"Stacie called you guys?" asked Chloe. "When?"

"Just yesterday. We were rehearsing for the Sunday show when she called from headquarters. Since we had to take the Treble bus back for a tune up she said we could get in on Tuesday but I guess Bumper wanted to prove he could drive halfway across the country in record time and," Benji shrugged, "he did. We got here just a few minutes ago actually."

"You must be exhausted," Emily said sympathetically.

"Yeah, but when I found out the Bellas were in this hotel, too, I just had to see you…"

The conversation quickly devolved into Emily and Benji exchanging furtive and shy looks at each other, so Beca nudged Chloe in the ribs and motioned toward the entrance.

"Come on."

"But Emily—?"

"I don't think she's even going to notice we've gone," smirked Beca, nodding toward the two now catching up in quiet conversation.

She took Chloe by the wrist and pulled her swiftly toward the doors. Once outside in the cold night air, she whistled at a nearby taxi. After helping Chloe in, she asked the driver to simply give them a ride around town. Luckily, he was amiable enough to agree and even acted as their tour guide.

They were cruising along the Sunset Strip, passing the site of the demolished nightclub where, according to their driver, the curfew riots had occurred years earlier, when Chloe looked out the window and asked him, "Hey, mister, is there any place around here with really good jazz?"

Beca gave her a curious look.

"Oh, you want good jazz?" The driver looked up at his rearview mirror at them with raised eyebrows. He didn't expect these two young out-of-towners to be jazz enthusiasts. " _Good_ jazz? Then let me ask you a question—who played the cornet for Jacques St. Clair on _Vital Stats_?"

The driver might as well have been speaking another language to Chloe and she looked blankly at Beca, who answered as effortlessly as if he had asked for her birthday. "Scotty McDonald."

"Ha!" The driver thumped his palms against the steering wheel enthusiastically, clearly impressed with Beca's jazz acumen. "Then there's only one place that deserves your fine tastes, miss—the Blue Spot."

Minutes later, the cab pulled up beside a modest looking club with a single nondescript door and no windows. A neon sign reading 'The Blue Spot' in cursive letters hung above the door.

"Is this place safe?" Beca asked uncertainly, giving the club's facade a thorough inspection.

"Nothin' to worry about, miss," the driver assured, holding the car door open for them. "Unless you don't fancy people like Bill Evans, Shelly Manne, Billy Collette—"

Beca eyes widened. "Th—they're in there?" she gasped.

"Could be. They have been known to frequent the Blue Spot and jam together."

Chloe smiled at Beca almost bouncing on her feet with excitement. "What are we waiting for, then?" she laughed, thanked the driver, and grabbed Beca's hand.

Inside, The Blue Spot looked just as Chloe would have imagined a jazz club would look like; dark and soft, as though they had gone underground. The lights were dim and there seemed to be a haze of odorless smoke in the air, though the club itself had a pleasant woody smell.

It was quiet, despite being packed with patrons, the atmosphere was quite unlike any of the clubs Chloe had been to before. There was a bar against one wall and a small stage against another, where a trio was currently playing some upbeat jazz piece.

"I could get used to this," breathed Chloe. She found an empty booth close enough to the stage and led the way to it. She had to pull Beca down beside her since the brunette remained frozen, mesmerized by the drummer playing on stage.

Soon, a waitress approached their table and asked for their orders. Beca was still incapacitated, gawking at the musicians, so Chloe ordered on her behalf. "I'll have an iced tea and she will have a vodka martini, please."

"Comin' right up."

Chloe went back to watching Beca drum her fingertips on the table to the beat of the music until she felt it was time to bring her back to earth. "Hey!"

Beca jerked her head around and blinked. "Hm? Did you say something?"

"Not a word for the past two minutes but that's kind of my point," giggled Chloe.

Beca took a moment to understand the words before she twisted her body away from facing the stage. "Sorry! I didn't mean to be rude."

"No, I liked watching your face get all goofy again—"

Beca instantly scowled.

"—but I like talking to it more."

"Well, I'm not making the face any more," huffed Beca, nodding a thanks to the waitress as she served their drinks. "Did you order this for me? How did—?"

"I know it's your favorite drink?" finished Chloe. "How do I know you like jazz music? Or that you hate sleeping when others are awake? After two months together, Beca, at some point you've got to come to terms with the fact that we're _friends_."

Beca laughed at Chloe's sarcasm. "Fine, I guess you're right. You pretty much called it after all."

"What do you mean?"

"The day you forced me to audition for the Bellas, remember?" said Beca. They paused to applaud at the band after they ended the song. "You ambushed me at my dad's bookstore that afternoon and told me I got the gig, then… you said we were going to be fast friends."

Chloe suppressed a smile. "You've got good memory."

"Well, it's not everyday someone you just met says something like that. You're… you're something else, Chloe Beale."

Chloe didn't respond immediately. She knew what she wanted to say—or rather, what she wanted to express—but she couldn't find the right words.

Or the right time, apparently, because the next musical piece started playing and Beca practically whimpered in delight. "Oh, Chlo, you gotta hear this. This masterpiece is ' _Time to Blow'_ by—"

"Del Paxton," Chloe finished again, to Beca's surprise. "Two months, Becs. This is the song you've been playing in between practice."

"Yeah…" Beca closed her eyes and sighed. "This guy is so much better at it, though."

"He should be. That's Del Paxton playing."

Beca's eyes flew open and she bumped the table with her knees in her hurry to look back at the stage. "Oh my god, oh my god," she whispered. Then she froze and went quiet.

The same waitress passed their table on her way to another and looked down at Beca. "You just lost her to Del, didn't you?" she smiled sympathetically at Chloe. "Don't worry. They all snap out of it in the end…"

Chloe chuckled and rested her chin on her palm. Her eyes flitted between Beca and the legend Beca admired so much. She had always thought jazz was an acquired taste, something only a certain kind of people liked. And she was beginning to understand why they did.

They continued to listen in silence until the last note rang through the club, met with enthusiastic applause. Beca rubbed her face with her hands to calm herself down and turned back to Chloe. "God, I'm so sorry—I promise I won't do that again."

"It's okay. I kind of got lost in it, too."

"Right? I mean," Beca took a deep breath, "Del Paxton is one of my heroes. I wouldn't have picked up drumsticks if it weren't for him."

"Well, in that case, why don't I sit down here and let you buy me a drink?"

None other than Del Paxton himself took off his hat and squeezed into the booth beside Beca, whose jaw just reached the floor.

"Mr. Paxton—" began Chloe.

"Please, call me Del." The musician removed his hat and looked between the two girls. "You know, it's not every night I see ladies as young as yourselves hanging around the Blue Spot. Who are you?"

"I'm Chloe Beale and this is Beca Mitchell," supplied Chloe. "We're from Barden, Georgia and we're in a band called The Barden Bellas—"

"Ah, yes. I've heard of you girls."

"Y-you have?" sputtered Beca, speaking for the first time since Del sat down. "I'm _so_ honored—see, I play the drums so—and you're my biggest fan—I mean—!"

Del chuckled. "Marguerite did say," he nodded toward the waitress approaching them once again.

"I was surprised somebody's actually heard of you, Del," she joked. "So what'll it be?"

"I'll have another Hennessy on her," he pointed at Beca. Then he turned back to the two. "So, your band, are you any good?"

"They're great," Chloe answered at once, ignoring Beca's frown when she used 'they'. "Their record got to number seven on Billboard in just two months."

"Impressive. And where is the rest of this talented group?" Del asked. "Why aren't you all together on this fine night?"

Chloe was relieved he hadn't brought up her involvement but was unprepared to answer that question. "Um…"

"We have different, uh, interests," said Beca.

It wasn't easy to miss the inflection in her tone and, after a long sip of his drink, Del said, "Ain't no way to keep a band together."

Chloe looked up. "Oh, but we're friends. We go way back."

Del winced slightly. "I'm sorry to hear that. But I suppose it's possible, you making it all the way as friends. But listen here," he leaned closer and so did the girls. "Bands come and go; sooner or later something makes you crazy—the money, the road… But the music—now, _that's_ forever. You got to keep on playing no matter what."

"How do we do that?" Beca asked softly. She wanted to believe that the Bellas could make it all the way, but she'd be remiss not to ask a legend about the alternative.

Del smiled. "It's important to have that one thing—a feeling, a person, an idea—that keeps the music in your _heart_ playing. Just follow that and I reckon you'll be all right."

* * *

Del thanked Beca and Chloe for the drink and conversation, tipped his hat, and excused himself to return to his friends playing cards in the corner. The girls had lost track of the time they spent talking to Del about his musical adventures, and only realized the lateness of the hour when Chloe yawned and rested her head on Beca's shoulder as they listened to the trio transition to smooth jazz.

"I know people think jazz is some sort of… esoteric genre," Beca mused softly, "as though it's complicated and difficult to understand. But for me it was never about 'getting it', you know? I just love how much was _there_ in the music, whether or not you felt what the artist or anyone else felt—the point was that it made you feel... _something_... You wouldn't think banging sticks like a madman could produce something so emotional, you know?"

Beca felt a small movement on her shoulder and turned her head slightly to look down at Chloe, who had given a tiny, sleepy nod. She checked her watch and saw that it was minutes past midnight. "It's late. We should head back."

* * *

The cab ride back to the hotel was quiet. Beca assumed that Chloe was an inch from dozing off so she pulled her wordlessly back to rest against her shoulder the moment they settled into the backseat. And as they passed brightly lit streets still buzzing with nightlife, she thought about what Del had said and about his advice on keeping the music alive.

Ever since they got used to being on tour, and even more so when they flew to LA, their focus had become sealing their fates as legitimate musicians, making and selling records to millions of fans. It made her wonder what was keeping the music of the Bellas—and for that matter, each individual Bella—alive.

Why were they here? Did they really _want_ this?

Beca knew these weren't easy questions to answer, since they weren't all going to be together at the end anyway.

The girls all knew, but they somehow chose to ignore it as their achievements stacked on top of each other. They _knew_ that Emily was going to have to finish school. They also knew—and Beca was reminded of it earlier that day—that Fat Amy was bound by her status as an exchange student, which meant that she needed a legitimate job in the industry if she wanted to quit school and continue being in the band.

They knew these things, but they just assumed they would make it work for both Bellas when the time came.

The answers were much clearer in her and Aubrey's cases, however. After what Chloe had divulged, Beca was a hundred percent certain that Aubrey was staying here no matter what happened. This was her dream. Similarly, Beca had already affirmed her commitment the day she told her father and Sheila that she was leaving Barden to pursue a music career. For Beca and Aubrey, going back to Barden was not an option.

Bellas or no Bellas, all the girls _knew_ that leaving Barden was the beginning of a new life for some of them.

So why was Beca thumbing the cracks, feeling them split open, and getting a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach _now?_ She could have gone on recording their album without sparing a thought about what kept the music alive and just assuming that, paradoxically, the upcoming album did. After that, it was done. Their contract was fulfilled.

It was inevitable that this would all come to an end, so how could one tension-filled dinner—which wasn't even the first they'd had throughout the summer—suddenly unravel her apprehension?

Beca looked at her reflection in the dark windows of the cab and slowly realized why.

When Stacie had first approached them with promises to make them famous and successful, and the road ahead was vast and hopeful and they were a band of five. When they hopped into that windowless van to Ohio for their Midwest tour, they were different, but still whole. Chloe couldn't perform with them on stage, but her being there that night, in the front seat, to surprise them had filled the girls with joy. Back then, it wasn't about the music; it was a sense of camaraderie, of friendship.

But somewhere along the way The Barden Bellas became _the Bellas_ —Aubrey, Fat Amy, Emily, and Beca—and the _'honorary'_ Bellas—Stacie… and Chloe. For some reason, it became more about the music and the roles they played than about a group of girls from Barden trying to make it big. They had been optimistic (or foolish) to think that it was the same amateur garage band that made it across the Midwest and, eventually, to LA.

So tonight, after Aubrey's walk out, after Del's shared wisdom, when Beca refused to ignore what they already knew and tried to process the inevitable, she realized that amid the changes the Bellas had gone through, certain things kept nagging her at every turn:

 _This was never her dream._

 _I just know that this is where I want to be._

They had been too busy ignoring what they already knew that they didn't realize that one of the things they ignored was a lot less clear than the others, and depended on something very different:

 _What was Chloe here for?_

Beca looked at her reflection once more and discovered that Chloe wasn't sleeping; her eyelids were heavy and drooping but the slow, occasional blink told Beca that she was awake. Beca let her eyes roam over the parts of Chloe's face the reflection showed. She no longer felt that it was creepy to stare at her; somehow she knew that Chloe was aware of what she was doing, and Chloe's silent consent calmed Beca's heart.

And for just one minute Beca let herself believe that Chloe wasn't solely here for her friends. Beca let herself believe that leaving the safety and guarantee of a good home and a better future was a risk people took for something great, something their heart truly wanted.

And if she were to believe that Emily and Jesse were right and Chloe _did_ feel the same way… then she should be happy, right? Because that would mean that Chloe wanted _her_ ; that Chloe wanted to be with Beca… that Chloe was here _for_ her.

That should make her happy, but it didn't.

* * *

 **Response to Reviews:  
**

 **jalex1** (Nov. 3) - Beca read the doctor's note; I don't think she'd take Chloe being seriously ill lightly haha! Emily is the first of the Bellas to push, but let's not forget Jesse's been on Team Bechloe since forever. More Aubrey coming soon. Thanks for continuing to read! Next chapter will hopefully be up soon.

 **Guest** (Nov. 3) - Chloe's all better now! :) Take note that the past few chapters have spanned only three days and Chloe didn't rest even after her surgery. If you've ever been sick after visiting a hospital and still keep working yourself to the bone, I don't think you'll get better soon haha.

 **Reader** (Nov. 3) - Well, Chloe put them together so it makes sense that the band sans Chloe would seem all over the place haha. Take a chill pill ~ she's a-OK haha.

 **LOVE THIS STORY** (Nov. 3) - THANKS! I hope you're wrong, too. Again, she's fine! There will be no tears shed for this story, I can promise that much haha. Thank you and stay tuned for more. :)

 **RJRMovieFan** (Nov. 4) - The lack of interaction between Chloe and Aubrey is intentional. I wanted more Beca and Chloe throughout the tour but not to the detriment of Chloe and Aubrey's friendship. On the contrary, Chloe's illness made Aubrey pay a bit more attention to her (and she did in Ch.9) and Aubrey does still involve Chloe in their musical work (Ch.8). I don't think writing the 'extended tour scenes' I wanted would have changed the amount of time Chloe and Aubrey appeared to spend together so the impression that they don't seem to interact as much seems to be working out as intended haha.

 **pinappletini** (Nov. 4) - *brings in the seal* Gaaaayyyy. And thank you! Oh, I am so glad you brought the 115 up hahaha. Pitch Perfect's worldwide gross was $115m and you might not be that surprised by Fat Amy's defense.

* * *

 **P.A.Q. (Preemptively Asked Questions)**

 _Wouldn't Chloe just continue her job at RH, ergo, still be with Beca, even if Emily and Fat Amy had to leave?_

Short answer: It is very likely that she would, but Beca is more concerned with what Chloe really wants, not just Chloe's job. Looking toward the horizon made Beca realize (now that she's getting all feelings-y with the redhead) that it might not be the same horizon Chloe's looking at.

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry for the delay (although strictly speaking this is my best streak of near-consistent uploads so far). I had planned to finish it early last week but then... well, we all know what happened on November 8. It took a while to find the willpower to write the last few paragraphs but here we are. The following chapters are more clear-cut so it's possible to extend this streak until the end. I probably won't be updating any other story until this one is finished though. Thanks for reading!


	11. Chapter Eleven

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

Beca didn't sleep well that night. It seemed that every time she got closer to losing consciousness, images of Chloe resting on her shoulder kept blocking her way. When they did, she would toss and turn until the imagined weight of not just Chloe's head but also her dreams and future dissipated—but only for a while, as the cycle repeated itself after a minute.

So, at the first hint of sunrise, Beca carefully pushed herself off the bed and began getting ready for the uncertain day ahead. Aubrey and Emily had been asleep in their room by the time she and Chloe returned, and Fat Amy must have returned from her own night of fun after they had fallen asleep since she was now sprawled across her bed.

Beca had planned to take a head-clearing walk around the neighborhood before the morning officially came, but the hotel notepad on their bedside table informed her, with Emily's juvenile handwriting, that Stacie had called the night before, while they were out.

They scored the Hollywood Television Showcase gig and had an 8AM call time at the television studio.

" _Be ready at seven-thirty,_ " she read the last line quietly and sighed. So much for that walk.

* * *

"You're up early," Chloe commented with a yawn about half an hour later, when the Bellas were beginning to rise one by one.

"Hm? Oh… yeah."

Beca forced her eyes back down to the uninteresting hotel brochure on the coffee table. She desperately hoped, while trying to avoid lifting her gaze, that she looked genuinely engrossed in the hotel's many amenities (fit for all budgets!). The most she could see out of the corner of her eye was Chloe still sitting on the bed. She was rubbing her eyes sleepily, or maybe doing some other movement. Beca willed herself not to look.

"I guess I should get ready," said Chloe. "Emily says you're going on the Hollywood Television Showcase today."

Beca knew it would be rude not to answer. "Yeah…"

"So that's why you were up early?"

"Uh-huh."

Chloe raised her eyebrows but didn't seem all that thrown off by Beca's behavior. "Okay, while you relearn how to make conversation, I'll be in the shower," she said with a teasing smirk.

The second the bathroom door closed, Beca let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. "What the hell are you doing?" she muttered to herself. "Snap out of it!"

Suddenly, the adjoining door swung open and Emily came skipping in, bright and cheery. "Good morning!" she sang loudly.

Fat Amy groaned and buried her head under a pillow.

"You seem too happy this morning," Beca noted.

"First of all, good morning to you, too, Grumpy-stiltskin," Emily teased, cocking her head to the side. "Second of all, thanks for ditching me and Benji last night, but I'm not all that upset if it meant you and Chloe had a date night—"

"Shh!" Beca hissed. It wasn't necessary, since Chloe was out of earshot and Fat Amy had effectively blocked hers, but Emily making any implications about her and Chloe made Beca's head spin.

"You still didn't tell her?" Emily raised her eyes heavenward and clutched the sides of her face dramatically. " _Why not?_ "

"I already told you, it's not that simple—"

"What's going on here?" Aubrey walked through the door but before she could continue her investigation, she spotted Fat Amy still snoozing. She put her hands on her hips and cried, "Amy! Wake up!"

Taking advantage of the distraction, Beca turned back to Emily and asked in an undertone, "How was Aubrey last night?"

To her surprise, Emily smiled widely. "A lot better once Stacie called and said we got studio time tomorrow!"

"Really?" In spite of herself, Beca felt elated by the news. Somehow she felt that if she could just get through their TV gig today and their first recording session tomorrow, then she might find a better handle on her personal situation. "That's awesome!"

* * *

Another half hour later, the Bellas were at the hotel lobby eagerly waiting for their manager to arrive. Fat Amy was practically inhaling shots of espresso after being abruptly awakened not so long ago. Emily was looking back and forth between Beca, who was sitting on the couch quietly staring into space, and Chloe, who was in a solemn conversation with Aubrey near the entrance.

Emily opened her mouth and, anticipating another Chloe-related question, Beca interjected quickly, "What did you and Benji get up to last night?"

Emily pursed her lips in annoyance but answered anyway. "Nothing much. We just talked and I caught him up to what's been going on. Then he went to bed early 'cause they really were exhausted. He said Jesse didn't even wait," she giggled. "He jumped on the bed and just slept. Bumper didn't wait either, he—"

Emily frowned, then turned to Fat Amy on the other end of the couch. "Benji said he also left, to 'get back on the horse'…"

"Are you sure he said _horse_?" Beca asked with a snigger, quite proud of her wordplay.

"Yeah, maybe he meant, like, a free-range pony that can't be tamed—ooh, burn!" laughed Fat Amy, holding her palm out to Beca for a high-five, which she returned albeit confused by the joke.

Emily shook her head. "That wasn't my point. He said ' _get back_ '… and then _you_ also started again last night…"

Fat Amy paused with another espresso mug halfway to her lips. "Yes, and?"

"The Trebles only got back around the time we were having dinner," Emily continued slowly, "which means… that phone call at Residual Heat… the Trebles driving halfway across the country… You _knew_ they were coming!"

Fat Amy drank the bitter liquid slowly to avoid having to say anything. Beca, on the other hand, was watching Fat Amy with increasingly incredulous suspicion.

"Which means—" apparently Emily wasn't done putting the pieces together "—that you two take this competition _so_ seriously that you plan it down to the _minute_ you're in the same state!"

Emily shook her head in disappointment while Beca scratched hers, wondering who, between the two of them, had a synaptic misfire and arrived at the wrong conclusion.

"This has gone too far, Amy!" reprimanded Emily. "As your friend, I have to tell you that this isn't normal behavior. Sleeping with over a hundred guys just to show Bumper that you're better than him—it's not healthy!"

"You know what, Em, you're right," Fat Amy solemnly conceded, though Beca wasn't buying it judging by how quickly it came. "I can be better than him by _not_ sleeping around anymore. That'll show him!"

Beca rolled her eyes at Fat Amy but Emily, innocent as she was, seemed satisfied with herself. Fortunately, before Fat Amy reached the point of bursting out in laughter and undermining Emily's confidence, the clacking of heels caught their attention. Aubrey and Chloe started approaching them.

"What's up?" Chloe asked, casually seating herself directly beside Beca.

On any other day, this wouldn't have been an issue. Beca was used to close contact with Chloe, even when she was sick. But feeling the sofa cushion dip with Chloe's weight recalled visions of what kept her up all night and she deliberately leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, to put what little space she could between them without being too obvious.

"I just changed a life," Emily said smugly. "What have you two been talking about?"

Chloe threw a quick look at Aubrey, who in turn glanced at the clock above the front desk. "It's seven thirty-eight. Stacie's l—"

"Sorry I'm late!" Their manager glided with impeccable timing into the lobby. "I had some last minute confirmations to make. Chloe, can I talk to you for a second? The rest of you can go ahead to the car."

Beca took the opportunity to climb inside the station wagon before everyone else, so she'd end up between the window and someone who was unlikely to be Chloe. Emily frowned at Beca's hurry and opted not to go in after her, but Aubrey was less concerned about trivial seating arrangements so she slid in when Emily backed off.

Beca's preemption backfired, however, when Stacie returned to the car alone a minute later. "Wait, where's—?" she began before she could stop herself.

"She's off duty today," Stacie answered. "And since the show won't air until tonight, I told her she could have leisure time."

"Oh… okay."

Beca could feel Emily scrutinizing her from Aubrey's other side, so she turned to face the window and contemplated whether she was overreacting to last night's events.

After all, Chloe _hadn't_ actually said anything about wanting to be with her; Beca only made the conclusion when she couldn't think of a reason Chloe would want to stay after the album was done recording. It was her own desire _not_ to see Chloe leave that made her consider that Emily and Jesse were on to something.

Beca took a deep, calming breath and vowed to forget everything for now. She repeated her mantra to just get through the next couple of days and figure things out when they get there.

* * *

The moment they arrived at the studio where the Hollywood Television Showcase was to be aired live, the Bellas were immediately introduced to the producers and oriented with the program flow, and then rehearsed their blocking. There were almost half a dozen other acts for the show, so rehearsal took a good chunk of their morning.

After a chaotic lunch in a packed room, the Bellas were ushered to hair and make-up and it wasn't until they were changing into a velvety black, designer-label version of their signature outfits that Emily had the opportunity to confront Beca alone.

"What's the matter with you? Why were you acting so weird around Chloe this morning?" she hissed. "And before you play dumb—I know you never get into the car first, 'cause usually you wait for Chloe like the lovesick puppy that you are!"

"Would you quiet down?" Beca looked worriedly over at Aubrey and Fat Amy, who seemed to be having their own hushed conversation. "Chloe didn't even get in the car with us."

"You didn't know that until Stacie said so!"

"Oh, right."

Emily's expression turned from mild annoyance to genuine concern. "Wait… I—I didn't freak you out, did I? I didn't mean to push so hard, I just wanted to give you the courage to make a move."

Beca fiddled with the collar of her turtleneck nervously. "No, it's not that…" She reminded herself about her promise to forget, to put it off until she absolutely needed to address it, but Emily's assertion that _she_ needed to make the move gave her pause. "Hang on—why am _I_ the one making a move here?"

"What?"

"If everyone's so sure that Chloe has feelings for me, why hasn't she said anything _to_ me?" questioned Beca. "We've been together nonstop since the tour began—what's stopping _her_?"

Emily seemed to be at a loss for one moment, but then she shook her head roughly. "Does it really matter?"

"It matters," Beca said with conviction.

It mattered for the same reason it didn't make Beca happy to think that Chloe was here just for her. If Chloe wasn't confident enough to tell Beca how she felt, then something must be giving her doubts about doing so, and that was enough for Beca to be certain that she was making the right choice by holding it off.

* * *

A few hours later, the Bellas were waiting in their dressing rooms for their names to be called. They were the third act to go on, a good thirty minutes into the live show, which had just begun. Aubrey was vocalizing in the bathroom, Fat Amy was practicing her solo, and Beca was tapping her drumsticks on her lap when Stacie came through the door.

"Hey, girls. Wow, you look great!" she greeted, looking fantastic herself in a midnight green dress that highlighted her tall and slim figure. "Black really suits you."

Aubrey instantly came out of the bathroom when she heard their manager enter. "Stacie, I'm glad you're here. Can we talk about the songs we'll be bringing to the studio tomorrow?"

"Really? Now?" Stacie frowned in hesitation, though Beca thought inwardly that she shouldn't be surprised; this was the first the Bellas were seeing their manager since they separated after meeting the producers. "Let's do that after the show, okay? You're going to be on TV soon."

"We're not on for another thirty minutes, after some stupid clown spinning plates on sticks—"

"Hey! He probably trained really hard for that," defended Fat Amy, to Aubrey's disapproval.

"So let's do it now," Aubrey continued, turning back to Stacie. "Please."

Beca watched as Stacie struggled with herself for a while but ultimately seemed to decide on an empty statement. "All you need to worry about right now is being the hit sensation the whole country not only wants to hear, but tonight gets to _see_ , all right?" She turned to address the entire room. "Are you girls ready to have your face on every American family's TV set tonight?"

Amid Fat Amy and Emily's pumped up cheers, Beca kept her eyes on Aubrey as a dark shadow crossed her features. For once, Beca was on her side. Maybe it was due to Aubrey's outburst at dinner but the way Stacie dodged her simple request seemed too suspicious for Beca to overlook, and she wondered why she hadn't been taking Aubrey's claims seriously this whole time.

If she had gone this far with her old band—a thought Beca didn't like to dwell on—would she have noticed something was off sooner?

Beca didn't doubt Stacie's sincerity but it just dawned on her that Stacie hadn't been long in Residual Heat to even make an impression on the president. From the strictly business side of things, she was still just their manager, taking orders from executives.

Everything was unraveling again and Beca was actually glad when Emily brought up Chloe's whereabouts.

"She should be in the audience right now," Stacie replied with a pleased look. "I made sure she was well taken care of—a relaxing day at the spa, a brand new dress, and the best make-up artists in Hollywood. She also has backstage access and I invited her to congratulate you girls after your amazing show—so you'd better _make_ it amazing, all right?"

After building more hype and wishing them luck, Stacie promptly left the Bellas on their own to do some last minute warm-ups.

Beca cast another worried glance in Aubrey's direction. Instead of nit picking their outfits, as they would expect from her minutes before going on a nationwide broadcast, Aubrey kept quiet. Beca wondered when it had come to a point where she actually _missed_ the days of Aubrey being an overbearing leader. She felt like she needed to say something, to echo Chloe and say that Aubrey need not keep all her frustrations to herself, especially when Beca was only now beginning to understand them.

But there wasn't much time to come up with something reassuring, as soon enough the Bellas were headed to the stage.

* * *

The audience at the Hollywood Television Showcase was tiny compared to those at any of the state fair shows the Bellas had done, so the cheers and rounds of applause that greeted their entrance felt much tamer. But though they were far fewer that the Bellas were used to, the people sitting on the plush seats were also far more important.

The girls took their positions on giant colorful, disc-shaped platforms before huge block letters spelling out the band's name. Taking a seat on her stool, Beca once again looked over to Aubrey, expecting her to be glad that there were no backup dancers. But Aubrey's expression was unsettlingly unreadable.

The lights were dim as they waited for the commercials to end and Fat Amy turned around on her platform to face Beca with a smirk. "Your girl is looking fine tonight."

Beca blinked in confusion. "What?" To her left she saw Emily grinning at her as well and as much as she wanted to question whether _everyone_ knew, her sudden desire to find Chloe in the audience urged her to look forward.

Unfortunately, her eyes first landed on a producer snapping his fingers to get her attention. "Shades! Shades!"

Beca grudgingly put on the accessory that effectively made her task impossible to accomplish, but she steeled herself to focus on the next three minutes and _only_ the next three minutes. The same producer began counting down to air time.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen," the host announced from the apron, "the latest rock and roll group to shake up the charts with their catchy tune _and_ their feminine charm—the new hit sensations… _The Barden Bellas!_ "

The lights brightened as Beca counted them in with the song's infamous drum intro.

" _You, doing that thing you do…_ "

* * *

" _I can't take you doing that thing you do!_ "

The lengthy standing ovation and screams of approval the Bellas received at the end of the song were so overwhelming that the host had to go off script and actually approach them on stage.

"Wow!" he cried. "Listen to that applause!" A camera panned across the audience and the cheers only got louder.

"The Barden Bellas have been experiencing record success with your first ever single, ' _That Thing You Do'_ —how do you feel?" the host asked Aubrey.

"It's… surreal," replied Aubrey, a little thrown off by the unplanned interview, but after a quick spark in her eye, she composed herself determinedly. "But when you've got the talent and put in the hard work, success comes easy. Although I have to admit," she flashed a fake charmingly shy smile at the camera, "when I wrote ' _That Thing You Do'_ I didn't expect it to be this big of a hit."

Beca and the others exchanged looks.

"You must be so grateful for Sammy Siler at Residual Heat Records to have picked you girls up—that Sammy's truly got a golden ear!"

The camera facing the audience tilted down toward the front row of the audience, where Mr. Siler was sitting with other VIP guests, mostly industry executives. His reputation earned him applause from the older members of the audience, and he looked at the Bellas' lead singer intently for her answer.

Aubrey didn't hesitate. "Yes, we are so thankful that _Mr. Siler_ signed us. In fact, he believes in us _so_ much that we've already begun working on an album, with a whole list of songs written by yours truly."

The audience hooted in excitement and the producers signaled the host to close to commercial. In the front row, Mr. Siler was already fielding questions from his fellow executives.

"I'm sure your hundreds of thousands of adoring fans are excited for that! As they will be about these messages from our sponsors."

* * *

The Bellas' short walk back to their dressing room was made in quiet confusion. Emily and Fat Amy didn't know what to make of Aubrey's answers, on account of how brief the interview was; it was possible that Aubrey could only say what was at the top of her mind when she was put on the spot. They couldn't really take it personally if they weren't mentioned or given any attention.

At the back of the line, however, Beca was fuming. Not only did Aubrey contradict herself and willingly credited Mr. Siler for all of _Stacie's_ hard work—which, despite whatever Stacie might say in defense was still a slimy thing to do—but she also took sole credit for writing ' _That Thing You Do._ '

Beca intended to give Aubrey a piece of her mind once they were safely inside their private dressing room, but she stopped in her tracks right outside the door because at the other end of the hallway walking toward them was Chloe.

Beca recalled the first time she had ever met Chloe, the night she got caught jamming to her new Del Paxton record at the back of Luke's shop. Chloe's unique style intrigued Beca at first but it was the effortlessness with which she switched from provocative to elegant the next morning that made her see the beauty underneath the surface. Chloe certainly knew how to dress, but she could be wearing a garbage bag and Beca wouldn't have eyes for anyone else.

So, after a day of being pampered and spoiled with the best Hollywood could offer, it shouldn't have come as a surprise to Beca when the sight of Chloe in a stunning white dress that hugged her perfect figure and with her soft cooper curls hanging over one shoulder in a loosely undone braid took her breath away.

Beca was still rooted outside the door, almost swaying from having the wind knocked out of her, by the time Chloe came within speaking distance. As she felt the gravity between them growing stronger, Beca lost trace of any other thought in her mind other than the present—being in that hallway, alone (or so it felt) with Chloe.

Chloe left a few feet of space between them before she stopped walking. She held her wrist behind her back and bit her bottom lip nervously, as though she were waiting for Beca's approval.

"Too much?" she asked in a slightly worried tone when Beca hadn't said a word. "I know white isn't really appropriate for an evening event but the dress was just so nice and…"

Beca felt her soul exit and promptly reenter her body in order to rouse her from her daze. "N-no, you look…" She breathed out a laugh at the awkward situation. "Literally… breathtaking."

Beca again recalled that the first time she ever met Chloe was more accurately the first time she had ever looked into her eyes. She'd only noticed Chloe's outfit a good minute or two after they began speaking to each other; what first caught her attention were those eyes. And ever since then, they were always the first and last things Beca's eyes went to whenever she'd look at Chloe.

Unfortunately, the infinite depth of Chloe's strikingly blue eyes was the trigger that brought all those pesky thoughts back. Chloe may look like a princess straight out of a fairytale tonight—or, in Beca's opinion, everyday—but her eyes held the characteristic down-to-earth, sometimes reticent, oftentimes flirty personality that Beca had gotten to know the past two months. And it was that instant attraction and sense of comfort that reminded Beca of who Chloe truly was… someone more than just a beautiful face, someone who meant _something_ in her life.

Beca wondered bitterly when, and how, it got this bad.

"Hey, I'm really flattered but _breathe_ , Becs," Chloe giggled, misreading the cause of Beca's silence. "You're even paler than usual now."

Beca chuckled nervously. "Yeah… um, listen…"

She couldn't stop thinking how it wasn't fair to Chloe. None of this was fair.

"About what Aubrey said after the song, that wasn't—she shouldn't have—" Beca was suffocating under the internal conflict she was having over saying one thing and meaning another. But she needed to buy herself time.

Chloe's smile dissolved. "What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about." Beca was getting indignant. And restless. She could feel it. "You _co-wrote_ ' _That Thing You Do'_ and she took all the credit!"

Chloe sighed and almost rolled her eyes. "Oh, _that_? It doesn't matter. It was an impromptu interview and she would've bored the audience if she went on about how the Bellas' PR rep started in the band but had to leave." She waved a hand dismissively. "Don't make a big deal out of it."

Beca really wanted not to. And she could have let it slide, if only Aubrey balanced her public persona with her private one and showed more appreciation for Chloe's contributions to the band off camera, but the fact was, she didn't.

"…Beca?"

Yes. That wasn't fair, too.

Beca wanted to listen to Chloe and not make a big deal out of it. And, truly, she could have let it slide… if only she didn't absolutely _need_ to, for absolutely selfish reasons.

None of this was fair.

* * *

"You should have given Chloe credit for the song."

Chloe couldn't believe what was happening right now. One minute she was standing in the hallway, outside the Bellas' dressing room, soaking in the fact that Beca had found her _breathtaking_ —and then a second later Beca was turning her back on her, completely ignoring her plea not to make things messy by pointing out Aubrey's small slip.

Only, Chloe knew in her heart that it wasn't just a slip. Aubrey had always been a calculating woman; she must have known the implications of what she was saying on air when she said it, and the fact that Beca was now calling Aubrey out, in the middle of an awkwardly silent dressing room, made it clear that it was obvious to everyone, too.

"Excuse me?" Aubrey turned around slowly from placing her guitar in its case.

"You didn't write ' _That Thing You Do'_ by yourself."

Chloe attempted once more to shut her up. "Beca, please—" But it was too late.

"I know that," Aubrey responded coldly. "But, like everyone seems to insist to me these days" —she looked over Beca's shoulder at Chloe— "that's just the business. Right?"

"So you're not even going to apologize to her?" Beca growled.

Aubrey rolled her eyes. "Not mentioning Chloe at every interview isn't a crime, Beca."

Two swift knocks on the door silenced them, and the door swung open to reveal a grinning Stacie. "The Bellas are making waves after that performance!" she said happily, before catching sight of Chloe. "My God, Chloe—you look gorgeous!"

Chloe returned the hug half-heartedly, as said organ was still beating rapidly from the heated argument. Stacie noticed the tense faces over Chloe's shoulder and furrowed her brow. "What's going on?" she asked, slowly pulling away from Chloe.

Emily quickly attempted to abort the drama by lying and claiming, "Nothing—!" but Aubrey wasn't going to have it. Chloe knew that challenging look in her eyes very well. Beca had started something and Aubrey was going to make sure that Beca damn well finished it.

"Ask _her_ ," she pointed at the drummer. "It seems Beca has something to get off her chest."

"Apologize to Chloe," Beca demanded once more.

Stacie's confusion cleared as she realized the reason for the tension and she quickly turned to Chloe, who insisted, "Beca, she doesn't need to."

"Why not? Chloe, I'm sick of you making excuses for her! She doesn't get to treat you like you're—like you aren't—"

Beca swallowed; Emily and Fat Amy had turned to her with slightly anxious expressions, as though cautioning her to watch her step. Nobody had ever made that insinuation, at least not out loud. It was ironic that Beca would be the one to do it.

Chloe looked away. She realized, with a sickening lurch in her chest, that she didn't want to hear the end of that sentence as much as Beca didn't want to say it.

She had been comforted, at first, when Beca insisted that she wasn't a tag-along. But saying so opened the door for Chloe to think about what Beca herself thought Chloe's role in the Bellas was… if there even was one anymore.

She silently begged, to no one in particular, to just let her have tonight. She had hoped she'd have one more night before…

* * *

Earlier that day…

" _Bree, I'm sorry."_

 _Aubrey turned to face the window looking over the driveway, where she was expecting Stacie's car to appear soon. "For what?" she said after a pause._

" _For last night. For every day since we got to LA," Chloe replied solemnly. "You're my best friend and I—I should have remembered how much this means to you. I should have stuck up for you instead of always asking you to take it easy."_

 _Aubrey didn't answer and it made Chloe worry that her apology wasn't enough this time. "Bree…"_

" _Why are you here, Chloe?"_

 _Chloe was taken aback by the question. "What do you—?"_

" _Why did you accept Stacie's offer? Why did you come along?"_

 _Chloe's eyes filled with hurt. "Do… do you not want me here?"_

 _Aubrey finally turned. There was guilt in her eyes. "That's not… I didn't mean that," she said sincerely. "I just wanted to know why because…. you never wanted this, did you?"_

 _Chloe frowned in confusion. "Well, I never wanted to quit because of my nodes—"_

" _I mean this whole thing. This life," Aubrey gestured around them. "We've known each other for years, Chloe. I know that this isn't what you planned for your life, so why_ are _you here?"_

 _Chloe looked down at her shoes. The answer was at the tip of her tongue, but it was a different answer from the one she had two months ago. She knew which one she preferred Aubrey to hear. "I wanted to be here for you… when your dreams came true. I wanted to be the little piece of home you might have missed as you journeyed through this."_

 _Aubrey slowly, tentatively, reached up and put her hand over Chloe's. It was the first gesture of friendship they shared since they celebrated finding out they were going to LA with a hug._ " _Thank you," she said gently. "And I'm glad that you were here for that. Our song reaching the top ten, going to LA—you were here when my dreams came true. And I didn't even miss home as much as I thought I would."_

 _Chloe breathed a sigh of relief too soon._

"… _so if that's truly the reason you're here, Chloe, then… you'd have no problem going back to Barden at the end of summer."_

* * *

Aubrey finished Beca's sentence for her. "Like she's our publicist? Is that why you're so upset, Beca? Because I treat her like she's someone our manager hired on a whim—?"

"Like she's not even your best friend!" Beca bellowed, unable to take Aubrey's indifferent attitude. "She's more than just 'someone' to you—to _all_ of us!"

"And Aubrey, I didn't just hire Chloe on a whim," Stacie defended, hoping to diffuse the building tension between Beca and Aubrey by joining in. "I genuinely thought she'd be helpful—"

Aubrey scoffed. " _Please_ don't act like it was anything more than a pity hire."

Even Fat Amy looked scandalized by that.

"Her salary comes out of _your_ paycheck," Aubrey pointed out before Stacie could say anything to defend her actions. "You said it yourself, the label _has_ a PR department—I'm sure any one of their _trained_ employees could handle one extra band. Come on, even the Treblemakers' agent doesn't go everywhere with them. And in what world does a publicist get a day off on an event like tonight's?"

Chloe didn't need to look at Stacie to know if Aubrey's words had any merit. Neither did she need to feel hurt by them; not when they echoed her own doubts, her own beliefs for the past summer.

"Yes, she was my best friend, Beca," Aubrey continued, "and, yes, she co-wrote the song that made us famous. But I'm looking at our future here, our _careers._ And the same goes for Emily," she waved a hand toward the frightened girl. "I appreciate what they all did to get us here. But what Chloe does for us _now_ doesn't contribute to our success. The _only_ thing that does, which none of you seem to understand judging by how you've blocked me at every turn, is making the _music_. So I said what I said up there—live on air and in front of all those executives—to get us closer to doing that."

Chloe wondered when she stopped checking whether she was cutting Aubrey too wide a slack. She wondered whether there was ever even a time when she wouldn't have easily accepted the words 'she _was_ my best friend' and that Aubrey thought she didn't contribute to their success without feeling a sting in her heart. Then she came to the realization that she was numb to it all; her first instinct was not to feel hurt, but to excuse Aubrey and blame herself.

There were many times she could have stuck up for herself, but in all those times she was only thinking of sticking up for Aubrey.

"I appreciate everything Chloe has done for me, I really do," Aubrey repeated, looking at no one in particular as she did. "But we all have to grow up and realize that, moving forward, she is not going to be a part of the band. She has no place here." Then she looked directly at Beca. "And clinging on to her will only make her _tagging along_ more pathetic."

* * *

Everyone was at a loss. It seemed there were no words to yell that could change Aubrey's harsh mind so nobody tried… Of course, it was either that or they completely agreed with her and were still reeling from the undeniable acceptance.

Chloe hoped it was at least a difficult truth to swallow. On her part, it was less about acceptance than it was about finally understanding something about herself.

"You… you didn't have to say all that," she said quietly, though in the silence of the room her voice felt magnified.

Everyone turned to her. She knew most eyes would be filled with some form of pity or indignation, so she didn't look at them. Instead she looked slightly to her right, at Aubrey's reflection in the mirror, as she came to terms with how, just like now, she had never been looking at the _real_ Aubrey Posen; always just an image.

"You could just tell the truth. You can… stop pretending."

It wasn't an image Aubrey had built, but one that Chloe did herself. And if Aubrey wouldn't say it, then she would—if not for her own sake, then for Aubrey's.

"We aren't really friends, are we?"

Over the years, tiptoeing around Aubrey's feelings had turned into something more like mindless obedience on Chloe's part but, as difficult as it was to be Aubrey's friend, Chloe imagined that it was just as difficult for Aubrey to be _her_ friend. Regardless of who was more wronged, it was clear that whatever they had wasn't a friendship. It was just too rough for the both of them.

"You always opposed every suggestion I had for the band," Chloe continued distantly. "I took the heat for Beca the night she changed the tempo and made our song a hit. You dismiss me when I ask you to be reasonable—and I somehow end up _apologizing_ for it." She shook her head in wry disbelief. "I never stuck up for myself. I just let you walk all over me… because I thought that's what I had to do to be your friend.

"You know, now that I look back on it… it's no wonder why I never got a hold of who I am: I was whoever _you_ wanted me to be, which was… _not_ my father's daughter."

Chloe finally turned to look the real Aubrey in the eyes. She couldn't read them even if she tried. With the image shattered, it felt like looking at a stranger.

"You never had to work _half_ as hard as I had to," Aubrey said. Her tone wasn't accusatory, or even defensive; it was almost wistful, as though she were looking back at fond childhood memories. "You never had to earn anything. Everyone just assumed you deserved it because of your last name."

Chloe shook her head sadly. "I symbolized everything you hated, didn't I? Shame on me for thinking I was the exception."

"I don't hate you," Aubrey said at once.

"But you don't think I deserve to be here, do you?"

There was a pause. It wasn't long. "No."

"Because I didn't work hard for it. Because I truly know nothing about the music business and Stacie gave me this job out of pity."

"Yes."

"And that's why this morning… you told me to go back to Barden at the end of the summer with Emily."

The other girls turned to Aubrey in surprise; they probably didn't think she would actually go that far. Somehow they had still hoped that Aubrey was just riding on an emotional high from tonight's events and didn't really mean what she was saying.

But to their dismay Aubrey gave a small nod. "It's what's best for you, Chloe. You have a future there, a family that can give you everything you want."

Chloe's lips curled into a tight smile. Some part of her believed that Aubrey was only looking out for her; it was the same part of her that hoped that somewhere amid the pretending, they really did become friends.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. From the reflection in the mirror she could see that it was Stacie's. The simple gesture of a gentle squeeze was all that was needed for the tears that had welled up in Chloe's eyes over the course of the confrontation to finally spill onto her white dress. The perfect dress. And she cried harder because now it was ruined.

"Chloe…"

Chloe gave a small shake of her head to absolve Stacie of any responsibility for her situation.

It was her own fault. If she hadn't lied to her friends in the first place, she wouldn't have felt this lost and alone. If she had been brave enough to confront the consequences of her decisions rather than blindly look forward to a future that may have only been wishful thinking…

Chloe clenched her fists as she fought the onslaught of emotions threatening to break her apart. She put too much faith in hope and now…

It was all just so pathetic: she couldn't defend herself because nothing Aubrey said was a lie; she had only hoped that their friendship would've kept the lie going. And now, after gazing so far ahead, she couldn't even bring herself to look at the future she longed for. To look at _her_.

She would have known tonight—in her perfect dress, maybe under the stars or at a nice restaurant—if that future was worth continuing to hope for. If only she had tonight…

But all of it was ruined now, just like her dress. And she was the idiot who thought putting on an appearance, an image, made the truth go away. Everything she had at present was a lie; that only proved that her future really was just wishful thinking.

Now all she could do was run.

* * *

 **Response to Reviews:**

 **jalex1** (Nov. 14) - You are? Hmm, I was thinking of elaborating on it in the epilogue. Maybe I will! Thank you so much. :)

 **Reader** (Nov. 14) - Oops haha. I guess I went the opposite direction in this chapter... Chloe loves to indulge Beca! Going to a jazz club was her subtle way of saying... you-know-what, I suppose.

 **Guest** (Nov. 14) - HOW DO YOU THINK SHE FEELS NOW? Hahaha.

 **pineappletini** (Nov. 14) - Haha! Is the ridiculously high number starting to make more sense now? Did you mean what her old bandmates have to say vis-à-vis her new band? Or the Bellas on Fat Amy's sexual romp? Haha.

* * *

 **A/N:** Three apologies: one for the drastic change in tone (at least toward the end) of this chapter, another for the cryptic behavior of our two protagonists, and lastly for the abrupt ending. The first couldn't be avoided because it's not all rainbows and butterflies for the Bellas, though it was _really_ tough for me to write Aubrey being so harsh. (Don't worry, I plan to save her somehow.) The second requires a little subtext-reading and some picking hints up from previous chapters but I think it's pretty easy to figure out what's happening in their heads. The last I had to do because of length and because I wanted to continue my streak of updating at most within a week of the previous chapter haha. Thanks again for reading! See you at the next chapter.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**A/N:** Surprise! A back-to-back (well, almost) update this week. Partly because the end of the previous chapter necessitated it, but also because some thoughts here are tied to others in the previous chapters and I didn't want you to lose track of the trend by posting a week later.

* * *

 **CHAPTER TWELVE**

"Chloe! H-hey—!"

Beca glared up at Stacie, who had stepped in front of her to block her from going after Chloe. Stacie shook her head. "Let her calm down—"

"No, I'm not listening to you this time. I won't let her go when she's _this_ upset!"

"Then you're not the one who should go after her," Stacie said firmly, taking Beca by the shoulder to stop her from getting around. She added in a softer tone, "It will just confuse the both of you."

It wasn't instantaneous, but Beca stopped her struggling when she realized that Stacie was right. What could she even say to Chloe, if she went after her, to make this all feel better? To make her stop hurting? It was, after all, Beca's own stupid fault. She should have listened to Chloe and not been such a coward, selfishly avoiding her own problems by creating one from an easy target.

"Then I'll go," Emily piped up, her courage only slightly undermined by the waver in her voice.

"Yeah, me, too," offered Fat Amy. "In my experience, a large woman tripping over her own feet is a surefire way of cheering someone up."

Stacie gave them both a sad smile but again shook her head. "I think it's best if it's someone not in the band." She turned back to Beca, who was too deflated to argue, and then to Aubrey, who was looking straight at her with pain and anger etched on her face. Stacie wasn't surprised.

"What have you done?"

Beca lifted her head at the sound of Aubrey's accusation and whirled around in disbelief. "What has _Stacie_ done? You berate Chloe like that and you think _Stacie's_ to blame?"

But Aubrey didn't flinch; she kept her eyes on Stacie, waiting for an answer. Beca turned back to their manager for an explanation and was surprised too see her greyish-green eyes lowering guiltily.

"Chloe, she _insisted_ —"

"Does she _have_ that future, Stacie?" Aubrey demanded, taking an intimidating step closer to her. "Does she _have_ a family to return to?"

Beca grew tired of flitting between Aubrey and Stacie and settled on trying to read the latter's expression. How did Aubrey suddenly get on the high ground? And what did Stacie have to do with Chloe's family?

Emily stifled a gasp behind her hand and also took a step toward Stacie. "They didn't…?" she pleaded.

"What's going on?" Fat Amy scratched her head in confusion.

Stacie took a deep breath before answering. "The night we left Barden was the night I tried to convince Chloe's parents to let her go, like I did to Emily's. But I told Chloe beforehand to _really_ think about it because, well, knowing the Beales, it wasn't going to be easy. In fact, I would have given up if Chloe hadn't said anything." She shook her head regretfully. "But she said everything you said, Aubrey. All of that stuff about how she didn't deserve the things she got, but also about how the expectations they placed on her weren't her own expectations for herself… how she wasn't happy just being their perfect little angel.

"That didn't sit well with her father. He called her ungrateful for giving her a good life and, well… he said that if she stepped out the door, she might as well never come back."

Beca, on her part, stepped away from Stacie reflexively. She stared at her, the woman with the so-called 'golden tongue'… What exactly did she end up convincing Chloe to do?

"I _swear_ I stayed out of it after that," Stacie insisted, "but Chloe—she was determined to keep going! I could tell it hurt her to leave but she was hoping for something… I didn't know what it was at the time."

Then Beca felt herself shrink with shame when she realized that she never talked to Chloe about her family. She never bothered to ask about the life Chloe left behind—other than that inane question about her boyfriend. Beca was too busy blindly looking toward the future to notice that Chloe wasn't even getting any letters from home.

And, worst of all, this happened because Chloe _wanted to be with her_. If she had just asked... Beca wondered if she could have stopped all of it.

"She made me promise not to tell any of you, even if you asked," Stacie continued solemnly, "and she relied on the disgrace she left her family in to keep the news from your own parents."

Emily and Aubrey exchanged looks of downhearted realization. Beca herself remembered how her father wrote about the 'scandal' she had left Barden with. It didn't occur to her that her father, whom she knew held Mr. Beale in high regard, was implying the very truth that Stacie just revealed.

Had Beca really been _that_ blind?

But in a surprising reversal of roles that evening, Aubrey became the voice of reason and hope.

"Her father isn't serious," she said firmly, trying to convince herself more than anyone else. "He was probably just emotional, caught by surprise. He won't—he _can't_ hold a grudge against Chloe, not his _only_ daughter."

"That's what I hoped for. And Chloe did, too, though she tried to hide it," sighed Stacie. "But it's been two months and she hasn't heard from them at all. Not one single letter…" She ran a hand through her hair wearily. "I wanted to give Chloe a chance to follow her dreams and at that time I thought it meant leaving Barden. I didn't want her to have to cut ties with her family but that was the consequence she understood and accepted."

The Bellas didn't know what to say, so Stacie started backing up toward the door. "I should go and find her. You girls just…" She pursed her lips and waved a hand, having found nothing to say. "I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

Alone in their dressing room, the Bellas waited for whoever would be the first to break the silence, and somehow they knew it could only be either Aubrey or Beca. Tonight had shattered Emily's rose-colored glasses and no humorous anecdote of Fat Amy's could spin it into something other than a complete train crash of emotions and relationships.

But as much as she wanted to continue fighting Aubrey, in her mind Beca had lost any moral ground to chastise her for all she had said, because it wasn't Aubrey who truly hurt Chloe that night. It wasn't Aubrey's words that caused Chloe to run.

 _Chloe always knew how Aubrey felt about her being there_ —Beca realized that now. That was why Chloe insisted on not making a big deal out of Aubrey not giving her credit for the song; she had even pointed it out over dinner. But despite that, Chloe kept going. She might have agreed with Aubrey about not being needed, but she still kept going because—

 _This was where she wanted to be._

Chloe was here for Beca.

But instead of seeing that as the blessing that it was, Beca buckled under the weight of Chloe's head on her shoulder. She couldn't take it. She cowered away because she thought having someone tie their future to hers was equivalent to jumping out of an airplane without a parachute. Beca couldn't rationalize how Chloe could put that much faith in her, and it bothered her that Chloe might be jumping with nothing to save her but Beca.

Which was why tonight, when Beca got dangerously close to throwing reason away and letting herself get swallowed by the sweet possibility of a future with her, she pushed back. She focused her attention on fighting a different battle, but she didn't expect Chloe to be the one getting hurt by it.

It wasn't Aubrey's words that caused Chloe to run; it was the feeling of jumping out of an airplane without a parachute.

* * *

Beca's head never felt heavier than when she lifted it to look at Aubrey. And that was all she did: she looked. Beca gazed upon the hard features of a woman she never thought could be so cold, so unrestrainedly harsh… and yet Beca couldn't bring herself to despise her without being a hypocrite.

Aubrey telling Chloe to go home was deplorable, but wasn't that essentially what Beca was hoping for?

Aubrey saw Barden as a place where Chloe could have a better future surrounded by a family that loves her and can provide for her. Disappointment after disappointment in LA only guaranteed that life there was never going to be easy; nothing was ever handed to you. So Aubrey pushed Chloe away from it all, saying that _home_ was what's best for Chloe. Was Beca really any different when she buried her own feelings to make it easier to tell Chloe the same thing?

Beca couldn't admonish Aubrey, but maybe there was one thing she could ask her to make tonight a little better. Aubrey's answer, if Beca dared to hope to get the right one, might make her see if they were really any different from each other.

"Did you ever… All those years, have you ever really thought of her as your friend?"

The girls looked up to the sound that broke the silence. Then Emily turned to Aubrey hopefully, but also fearfully; to learn that your friends never really liked each other was too dark for her cheerful nature.

"Chloe has supported me all this time," Aubrey said with a small sigh. There was no trace of the fire that fueled her earlier words. "She always did, even at my worst. She was the only one who ever… who ever loved me unconditionally. So, yes," she nodded at Beca. "I took her patience for granted but I did love her. Chloe was my closest friend."

Beca raised a skeptical eyebrow. "So telling her all of that was…?"

"The truth."

Beca ground her teeth. She should have known that Aubrey wouldn't admit, even at this point, to being wrong. But Aubrey quickly continued—

"And it was what I thought was best for her… I still think it is." She wrapped her arms around herself, not looking as confident as her words sounded, but she was no less determined to say them. "Her family will forgive her; it's not too late for that. Everything will be back to normal once she's home. She'll finish school and graduate, maybe work at her father's office, or with children like she's always wanted… She'll get married there, have her own kids, and live happily ever after."

It was the perfect picture of a perfectly good life—even Aubrey wanted to see that in Chloe's future. The whole argument about the band and where Chloe fit in it was just smoke and mirrors—something to once again distract them from the inevitable. And maybe that was why it was so easy for the Bellas, particularly Aubrey and Beca, to ignore what they already knew about the end:

It was going to be painful, but it was all for the best.

Beca swallowed to quell that same pain she was beginning to feel in her chest. So that settled it: she and Aubrey _weren't_ any different. In fact, they were on the exact same page. They both knew that staying in LA couldn't give Chloe all of that, and it turns out they were willing to hurt her to get her to realize it as well.

* * *

"Can I ask _you_ a question, Beca?" Aubrey said slowly, after the long silence that followed her prophesying. "Would you have been this lenient with Stacie—with Mr. Siler and the label, and how they've been treating us..." She looked at Beca straight in the eye, letting her know that she wasn't trying to spite her, but also that she wasn't going to make it easy on her either. "…if you weren't so distracted by your crush on Chloe?"

Beca felt her entire face heat up and her mouth go dry. But it was no use trying to play dumb now.

"Would you have thought twice about bursting in and demanding an apology from me if you hadn't fallen in love with her?"

It was as though Aubrey had been reading Beca's mind. Beca regretted it ever since Chloe stormed out. She couldn't stop kicking herself for not listening to Chloe; she should have just left it alone. But Beca couldn't answer that out loud.

In any case, Aubrey didn't seem to want an answer.

"I know you all see me as a monster right now," she said, looking at each member of the band. "Maybe I am. But I've _always_ looked out for what's best for us, for the band. And when we first set out I thought that you, Beca, would do the same. You were the outsider; you had the greatest incentive to work hard to make it farther than this." She looked at Beca with a mix of disappointment and sympathy. "But you got distracted."

Beca couldn't take any more of this. She knew it wasn't Aubrey's intention to make her miserable—it had never been more clear to Beca that the _truth_ hurt, not the person saying it—but she still couldn't bear to look at the harsh reality of the decisions she had made in the past few weeks. To do that, she needed a clearer head. And, yes, she knew it was a cowardly thing to do given that she started all of this, but she had to do it.

Beca ran.

* * *

Her running led her to Stacie. Without need of any prompting, Stacie calmly informed her, "She'll be okay. I set her up in my apartment for the night until things simmer down."

"Can I… can I go apologize to her?" It was the opposite of clearing her head, but it was instinctive on Beca's part.

But Stacie only gave her a sad smile. "I promise you'll see her first thing tomorrow at the studio. How about you, are you okay?"

Beca shook her head. "I need to clear my head. Any suggestions?"

"Hmm." Stacie regarded her through narrowed eyes. "I don't think so, missy. It's probably best that you go straight to the hotel and get some sleep."

"Come on, Stacie," Beca rolled her eyes, "I'm an adult."

"Yeah, an adult who just went through something pretty traumatic _even for an adult_ ," Stacie pointed out. But Beca must have looked desperately in need of a break, since she sighed and said, "Just don't do anything stupid, okay?"

Beca nodded. Despite claiming to be an adult herself, she actually appreciated that someone with more maturity was still looking out for them. She couldn't thank Stacie enough for opening her home to Chloe, and it eased her mind to think that there was at least one untruth in Aubrey's allegations: Beca wasn't lenient with Stacie because of Chloe; she simply trusted Stacie. Granted, she had allowed Chloe to break ties with her own family, but the fact remained that she looked out for the Bellas throughout their journey.

"Thanks, Stacie," Beca said sincerely. "For everything. I… we literally would be a mess without you."

"I don't doubt that," Stacie smirked to lighten the mood, "and you're welcome. I have some work left to do so I'll see you tomorrow, okay? Discmaster Studios on Sunset Boulevard."

"Got it. See you."

Beca waited for Stacie to disappear behind the doors to the studio where the showcase was being filmed, before proceeding to the exit. She considered taking Stacie's advice to go straight to the hotel and sleep it off, hopefully avoiding a potentially awkward encounter with the others by being asleep by the time they arrived. But it was too early in the evening and she wouldn't be able to sleep a wink with all the thoughts in her head anyway, so she told the cab driver to take her to the Blue Spot instead.

* * *

The downside to leaving the Midwest tour, Beca realized, was that they no longer had their instruments with them wherever they went. While they were in LA, the label took care of their equipment so if Beca ever felt the need to let her emotions out through drumming, she couldn't without signing paperwork. As a substitute, Beca presumed heading over to the jazz club would give her the same release.

Sure, it wasn't going to help clear her thoughts of Chloe, but it had jazz music, alcohol, and, hopefully, legendary jazz musicians. It was better than nothing.

Unfortunately, Del wasn't at the Blue Spot that night but two out of three worked fine for Beca, considering. In fact, she later took it as a good sign that he wasn't there; she could get loose with the alcohol without embarrassing herself in front of her hero.

When Beca had ordered her third vodka martini moments later, the waitress serving it looked down at her, placed a hand on her hip, and said, "When the bartender said there was a pale little thing getting drunk in the corner, I didn't expect it'd be you. I thought it was a leprechaun."

Beca smiled lazily up at Marguerite. "At your— _hic_ —service."

"Oh, boy." Marguerite poured Beca a glass of water from her tray and took a seat across her. "What are you doing here, two nights in a row? Where's your girlfriend?"

Beca made a face and downed her drink in one—it was a long 'one' but she persevered through it. She slammed the empty glass down on the table and stirred the olive with the toothpick. She wasn't aware how many seconds, or minutes, had passed before she said, "Del not here?"

"You missed him by a couple of hours, said he had a gig tomorrow and had to be well-rested," Marguerite answered, eyeing the tiny brunette. "Look at you, you're a mess. Is this about your g—"

"Hey, what do you think of… me going up there after— _hic—_ after him?" Beca slurred, pointing at the drummer on stage, working on a beat that no longer made sense to her.

"Not in your state of mind, young lady."

"Aww," Beca slumped over the table dejectedly, almost knocking the glasses off the table. "That's so _unfair_ …"

Marguerite sighed. "All right, come on," she coaxed Beca out of her chair with difficulty. "My shift's just ended; I'll take you home. Ain't right for a woman to be drunk off her ass alone at night in this town."

"You're such a nice, nice stranger," Beca mused as she was guided toward the exit. "Are—are all strangers here as nice as you?"

"It's nice to know my words are getting through to you, then," the waitress chuckled.

"Huh?"

Once outside, Beca wrapped her arms around herself against the chilly night air while Marguerite hailed a cab. "The Barden Bellas—you're down at the Avalon Hotel right? I got a friend who waitresses at the restaurant there, said one of you always orders the giant platter of ribs for herself."

"Sounds about right, yeah." Beca climbed into the cab too eagerly, hitting her forehead on the roof. That sobered her up a bit. "Damn…"

The first few minutes of the ride were quiet. Beca kept rubbing her head gingerly, wondering which was causing her head to throb more, the alcohol or the bruise. Soon enough she began to notice, once again, the colorfully vibrant streetlights and upbeat Angeleños enjoying the nightlife.

Beca's mind was decidedly clearer than it had been a few hours ago, and in that freed up space she decided to really soak in her surroundings.

 _Los Angeles._

In her mind she had built it up to be the place where her dreams come true, the springboard for her career as a legitimate musician. At the end of a road lined with bright lights and screaming fans was all the glitz and glamour, the fame and fortune of being a successful artist—and getting there would take fierce and intense competition. It would have consumed her soul.

But then Beca looked out the window again, and suddenly that picture seemed almost a caricature compared to reality.

"Hey, Marguerite?" she mumbled with her chin resting on her palm as she continued to stare out the window. "You lived here long?"

"In LA?" The waitress nodded. "Took me a while to get here but yeah. Five years last month."

"Got a family?"

Marguerite chuckled. "No. No, I don't. The only husband I ever had I divorced in Reno back in '64."

Beca watched as a man on the sidewalk took off his coat and offered it to a woman she assumed was his wife. They held hands and continued their stroll down the street, smiling and pointing at everything they found amusing. A man walking in the opposite direction greeted the two with a friendly smile. A group of rowdy teenaged boys hid their cigarettes behind their backs as the couple passed and bowed politely at the woman.

It all seemed so normal.

"Do you think this is a good place to have one? A family, I mean."

Marguerite seemed to give it some serious thought. "Well, LA's got a reputation for its sins and vices but, hey, this is a pretty big county. There are some good neighborhoods on the west side if you don't mind the distance." She looked at Beca, as if to check whether she got the answer she wanted. Marguerite apparently did not think so, since she felt the need to continue.

"I guess if you're asking me _personally_ … I'd say it depends. There're families everywhere in the world, aren't there? I suppose some places are better than others but at some point… you could live anywhere in the world and it'd still feel like home as long as you've got your loved ones with you. Don't you think so?"

Beca hummed a neutral tone. Her buzz had worn off even more and she was starting to get to her drowsy phase. She heard Marguerite's words but didn't string them together to form answers yet.

"You know, you're a weird kid," the waitress observed, not taking her eyes off of Beca slouched against the cab's window. "Most eager stars-to-be I've met in this town—and I've met plenty in my five years—get excited about the flashy stuff. You know, Hollywood and such. You're the only one looking to settle down, with all this talk about family."

Beca replied with a soft grunt. Marguerite chuckled and returned to looking out the windows on her side of the cab. "Don't worry too much, kid," she said lightly. "You're still way too young to be depressed about your future."

* * *

When Beca trudged into her room that night, both beds were empty. She barely had the energy to kick off her shoes and just plopped, facedown, onto her side of the bed the moment she did. The sheets were cold, and Chloe's absence was made all the more pronounced when Beca turned her head and saw the expanse of free bed space that was hers alone.

Beca struggled to raise herself up on her elbows so that she could army crawl toward the head of the bedframe, closer to the pillows. She sunk back down with a huge exhale and on her following intake breathed in a distinct smell—Chloe's.

Beca forced herself to twist and face the other side, not wanting more reminders to haunt her already confused dreams.

* * *

Beca overslept and it was long past breakfast when she finally awoke. After a brief moment of panic, she remembered that the Bellas only had to be at the recording studio at noon. Kicking the sheets off, Beca was mildly surprised to see that Fat Amy's bed was untouched. She assumed that Amy couldn't take the potential awkwardness either and chose to sleep elsewhere. Beca would have pondered the true reason, if only her mind wasn't running in an odd, slow motion march.

She wasn't sure if this was a side effect of a hangover, but it was as though her body was taking measures to protect herself against a sudden crash of remembering everything that happened the night—and consequently wanting to punch herself for being the cause of all of it. So instead her brain fed her information in small pieces as she went through the motions of getting ready for the day.

 _The Bellas are going to a recording studio today to begin work on their first album._

Beca sat up. She was alone in their hotel room and crossing the adjoining door to check on Aubrey and Emily was off-limits, according to her brain. There was nothing to say to either of the two so Beca listened instead to the rumble in her midsection informing her that she was hungry.

On her way downstairs moments later, it didn't occur to her that not running into any of her band mates, or even a member of the Treblemakers, was odd. A normally functioning Beca would have at least expected Emily and Benji to be wandering around. But now, it felt as though Beca was the only character in the story of her life. It felt slightly liberating not to have to worry so much.

But soon enough Beca started to question whether the protective measures her brain was taking were worth it, when a familiar face finally suddenly caught her attention.

"Beca!" Gail called from her desk once she saw Beca leaving the restaurant. "So you're finally awake. I was about to send room service up. There's a taxi waiting to take you to the studio—you'd better hurry!"

Beca glanced at the giant clock in the lobby indicating that it was half past twelve. That's right— _the Bellas are going to a recording studio today to begin work on their first album_. So Beca got into the taxi and, after the car wheeled out of the driveway, began to process the next bit of information: _Stacie promised she would see Chloe first thing at the recording studio_.

Now… what was Beca going to say to Chloe?

* * *

It turned out that Beca didn't need to suffer through the anxiety of listing all her issues with Chloe on the way to the studio—was Chloe really just sticking around for her? Did she expect something from Beca? Could Chloe really be happy with what she could offer?—because Chloe wasn't even the 'first thing' she saw when she walked into their recording room.

" _Finally!_ God, you're so late—wait, where's Emily? She's not with you? Fat Amy?" Stacie looked behind Beca desperately, as though hoping to see the two pop up behind the walls to surprise her. "Great, just _great_ —"

Beca in turn looked past Stacie toward the center of the room. Aubrey was standing with her back to Beca, her guitar case at her feet unopened.

"What's going on?" she asked Stacie. Her calm tone contrasted with Stacie's fidgety panicking. "And where's Chloe?"

Stacie seemed to soften at Beca's latter inquiry. "She said she'll follow when she's ready," she replied encouragingly, "but, Beca, our problem _right now_ is that your band mates are nowhere to be seen, and we've already wasted forty minutes of studio time! I've asked Gail to keep a look-out in case they go back to the hotel but Aubrey says Emily disappeared after breakfast—"

"Oh, and Fat Amy never slept in our room," Beca offered helpfully, though it had the opposite effect.

" _What?!_ " Without another word, Stacie stomped out of the room to deal with the crisis and Beca took the time to look around the recording studio.

It was large—much larger than Luke's—and had soft, white soundproofing panels padding the walls. A variety of instruments lay at the center of the room along with half a dozen microphones, and along the back wall was a window to the room with all the recording equipment. It was empty at the moment and Beca supposed it was because the artists weren't in complete attendance.

She cautiously approached Aubrey, who was standing beside the grand piano holding something in her hands—a stack of papers about half an inch thick. Beca also noticed Stacie's datebook lying open atop the piano with her signature pen beside it.

Aubrey was reading what appeared to be a contract, her brows furrowed and her lips pressed into a straight line; Beca didn't want to bother her so she quietly took a seat on the drum stool.

Save for the occasional sound of Aubrey flipping through the papers, the room was like silence in a box. Beca could practically hear her own heart pumping blood, her slow breathing like whirlwinds in a storm… If this was what it was like to have her mind clear, she didn't like it. She wanted desperately to fill that emptiness with something—anything.

So Beca picked up the sticks lying on the snare—they weren't hers, which were in her bag back at the hotel, forgotten—and twirled one between her fingers. And kept twirling and twirling, waiting for inspiration to strike until—

"Well, the good news is that Emily _is_ okay," Stacie announced, marching into the studio irritably. "The bad news is, Jesse called telling me that Benji left him a note saying Emily's with him... at _Disneyland._ "

Beca should have felt annoyed. Emily knew they had a session that day, why would she blatantly leave like that? But Beca wasn't annoyed; she felt happy. Happy that Emily got her wish just in time...

"And Fat Amy—for Christ's sake, that woman…"

Stacie was unaware that she was the only one actively participating in this conversation. Beca would have felt sorry for her but considering the circumstances…

"She probably ran off with one of her boy toys." Stacie shook her head, walking past Beca aimlessly as she continued her sermon. "I should have stopped that stupid game when I had the chance."

"Why? It's not like she was the only one getting screwed."

Beca turned her gaze toward Aubrey. Call it women's intuition, or maybe the fact that they'd been together nonstop for the past two months and their brainwaves somehow synchronized—but Beca understood the look on Aubrey's face the moment she approached her awhile ago. Beca knew what it meant for them, for Aubrey. For the band.

She knew why the guitar case was unopened.

"What do you…?" Stacie finally stopped her frantic pacing and glanced at the papers on the piano. In an instant, her entire spirit was doused by guilt. She licked her lips. "You went ahead and read the contract, I see."

Aubrey merely folded her arms and waited, once again, for an explanation from their manager.

"I wanted you all to be here when I explained it to you," Stacie said slowly, approaching them with even steps. "Because I knew—"

"We do my songs or we don't record anything."

Stacie paused. "Aubrey—"

"We do my songs or we don't record anything," Aubrey repeated her demand, louder.

"You're putting me in a tough spot—"

"You put _us_ in a tough spot!" Aubrey spat, losing her composure. Her yell rang magnificently through the soundproof room. She took a calming breath that didn't seem to work. "You know what, you're a liar, Stacie. I thought I hated you because were a credit-stealing social climber but you're not—you're just a plain liar. Still the same old Ana."

Aubrey raised and pointed a finger at her. "Our contract said ten songs— _ten._ But I'm sorry, I guess I should have specified that I meant ten _original_ songs!" She grabbed a fistful of the papers and threw them at Stacie, alarming Beca and Stacie with how angry she actually was. "You're asking us to do _covers?_ Are you kidding me!"

"It's only your first album!" reasoned Stacie, though Beca didn't think she had a prayer against Aubrey's wrath, not after all this time. "Finish this and you're guaranteed another—"

"We were guaranteed _this_ album!" Aubrey unclenched her fists and bent down for her guitar. "This is it. I'm done with you jerking us around. I quit, Stacie."

* * *

Beca watched as Aubrey walked away from everything she had worked so hard for, everything that was supposed to make all the pain they had all caused each other worth it. Beca wondered if she should have cried out and chased after Aubrey, begged her to see reason and urge her to compromise.

But why?

She didn't owe Aubrey anything; it wasn't her responsibility to fix her mess. A part of Beca, the one that still clamored for retribution, held herself back out of spite: if _she_ couldn't make Aubrey see the error of her ways, then maybe seeing her future come crashing down might. Beca wasn't in a position to argue whether Aubrey deserved that or not, but hoping for it was immensely satisfying, if this was the way they were going to end it all.

But more importantly, Beca didn't chase after Aubrey because she really didn't _want_ to fix this. Something broke last night and somehow the Bellas all knew. That was why Emily had the courage to up and leave for Disneyland with Benji; that was why Fat Amy never returned last night. Aubrey and Beca—they were the only ones who truly _dreamed_ of being there, they were the ones truly starting a new life, and that was why they were the only ones who came to the studio that day. It was a small symbol of their dying hope.

But now it was truly over. The brokenness was as loud and inescapable as the silence in which Aubrey left the room.

* * *

Beca heard the rustling of papers and snapped herself back into reality. She immediately got off the stool to help Stacie gather the papers.

"No, you don't have to—" Stacie insisted, but Beca picked them up all the same. When they were all back in a pile, Stacie shook her head apologetically and sighed. "I'm so, so sorry, Beca. I really am. I knew this was going to happen but I had hoped—"

Beca shrugged off her apologies. It was just business; Stacie was their manager and they were her client. Oddly, being misled by their contract didn't seem to bother Beca as much as it should have. Maybe because, even before she found out what was written in those papers, she knew their journey had already ended. It was all just timing.

"What's gonna happen now?" was all she asked.

"Well, if Aubrey absolutely refuses to make the album," Stacie said uncomfortably, "then the Bellas are in breach of contract—no one's going to prison or anything," she assured quickly, "but… you'd have to be out of the hotel by the afternoon I'm afraid. It's company policy. We can't, er, pay for you anymore. Sorry."

Beca waved a hand dismissively. "Don't worry, I get it." Then she looked around. Her brain was thankfully still doing its job blocking out all thoughts of the distant future, so she decided to make the most of it. "You've already paid for the studio time though, right? You mind if I hang around a bit?"

"Go ahead. It's the least I could do," said Stacie. "I was right about you. You are the smart one."

"Just taking your money's worth," Beca responded cheekily.

With an emotion-filled exchange of what might be their farewells, she and Stacie turned their backs on each other and began walking in opposite directions; Beca toward the drums, Stacie toward the door. Then suddenly the latter turned around.

"You're the smart one," Stacie repeated. Beca turned around and listened. "Fat Amy's the fool. Emily's the innocent. Aubrey is," she gave a wistful chuckle, "the talent, unfortunately. And Chloe…" She searched Beca's eyes. "Chloe's someone special. Aubrey may have been right about my reasons for hiring her but by the end Chloe wasn't _just_ your publicist. Her passion, her kindness, and her love for the music were essential to the group. I guess what I'm trying to say is… every cent I gave up was worth it. I should have said that last night."

Beca smiled at her gratefully. She was comforted by the look in Stacie's eyes that assured her that Chloe was treated to these praises last night. The door closed softly behind Stacie, leaving Beca alone in the complete silence of the room.

Now it was her turn to make amends for last night. All she had to do was wait for Chloe to arrive. Beca returned to the drum set, picked up the sticks, and began twirling one in her hand.

* * *

 **Response to Reviews:**

 **c8-17** (Nov. 21) - Thank you! It wasn't that difficult, to be honest; the movies were more similar than I initially thought. But the toughest task would have to be spinning Aubrey into a (fractionally) likeable character despite Jimmy not being one haha.

 **jalex1** (Nov. 21) - It's great that some sharp readers like yourself picked up on the odd way Chloe left Barden. We'll see more of that soon but for this chapter, let's see what Beca's been up to.

 **Guest** (Nov. 21) - Haha sorry to disappoint you! Unfortunately, Beca didn't feel like she had the right to. And to be honest I _don't_ think Aubrey realizes how important Chloe is to the band.

 **Reader** (Nov. 21) - Don't worry! I ended Chapter Elven abruptly for dramatic reasons but of course someone thought to stop her haha.

 **Big fan** (Nov. 21) - Big thanks, big fan! *bow* Your hope has been partially answered, I guess?

 **Bechloe fan** (Nov. 21) - Exactly! And what a shrewd observation there about no one jumping in to defend her. _Do_ they actually feel the same way?

 **pineappletini** (Nov. 21) - Oh, I had a minor (more like minuscule) subplot for Beca's old band. We'll see how that goes – if at all haha.

 **RJRMovieFan** (Nov. 22) - Haha I feel like I'm disappointing everyone right now with how I handled Aubrey.

* * *

 _Quick Note about Aubrey_

I won't explain Aubrey in-depth yet – you have the Aubrey-centric chapter to look forward to for that – but I did want to actively check on how you guys felt after this chapter. Did Aubrey explain herself well enough? Does Beca's (lack of a) reaction surprise you, or did it make sense why? Did I save Aubrey too soon? etc. You reacted just as I expected after Chapter Eleven, but now that more light has been shed in the aftermath, I want to know if I've been able to paint Aubrey as the complex character that she is (more complex than even Beca or Chloe, I think) before I dive into her chapter.

* * *

 **A/N:** The movie completely glosses over what happens between the scenes in the dressing room when Faye (Chloe) leaves and at the studio where Jimmy (Aubrey) quits so I had to fill in the blanks a bit. I hope you still found it coherent.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**A/N:** This and the following chapter consist of snippets of past scenes/chapters from Aubrey's point of view (so please try not to be bored haha). I chose not to write them in with the main story so there wouldn't be too many plot lines going on simultaneously, but this was always how I imagined Aubrey's journey was, different from Beca's as the protagonist.

* * *

 **CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

 **AUBREY - PART I**

Aubrey adjusted the strap on her shoulder and triple-checked if she had everything she needed. Then she took a deep breath and called through to the den where her parents were reading the evening paper, "I'm leaving!"

She heard the rustle of papers and waited expectantly.

"Where is she going, dear?" she heard her mother ask.

"Aubrey, come in here for a second."

Aubrey lay down her bags and followed her father's orders. He had folded the paper across his lap and removed the pipe from between his lips. "What is it you're doing again?"

"I'm going on tour with my band," she replied, keeping a touch of pride evident in her voice so that they knew this was a good thing. "We're going all around the Midwest all summer and, at the end, we're going to release an album."

"It's music?" her mother said with a slight tilt of her head, which Aubrey took as a gesture of condescension.

"Yes," she answered stiffly.

Her father's mustache twitched as he considered this. "Will Chloe be with you?"

Aubrey swallowed and avoided their eyes. Truthfully, she still hadn't heard from Chloe yet, but she knew it wasn't wise to be honest. "Yes, sir."

"Well, if Charles and Mary approved, it's surely a good thing, right?" her mother asked, looking to Aubrey's father for confirmation.

"Yes, I suppose it is."

Aubrey took that as the end of the conversation, as he unfolded his newspaper and returned to reading in silence. She waited a few more seconds before turning around with a small shake of her head. She didn't know why she expected anything more from them for her good-bye, but she couldn't really blame them. They were probably too stubborn to know what was even going on.

"Aubrey," her father called out just after she swung the front door open.

"Yes, sir?"

"Try to be back before the end of summer. You're on track to graduate with highest honors; you can't waste all your time gallivanting with your friends."

"Yes, sir."

She was right. They didn't understand.

* * *

Aubrey kept her eyes on the Treblemaker leading them back to their tents and greeting everyone he met on the way with friendly high-fives. When he slowed his pace to walk abreast with her, she tried not to glare at him too much.

"We haven't been formally introduced, I think," he said, grinning goofily. "I'm Jesse Swanson, lead singer of the Treblemakers."

Aubrey merely nodded and half-heartedly shook his hand, but her cold-shouldering only made him smile wider. "We've been on with the label for about a year and a half now," he said.

"Congratulations," she deadpanned.

Jesse chuckled. "I just meant that, being the new girls in town, if you have any questions I'd be more than happy to answer them—maybe over coffee sometime?"

Aubrey rolled her eyes. "You're coming on a little too strongly, don't you think?"

"Oh, don't misunderstand me," Jesse said cheekily. "I only meant as co-workers. Besides, we'll be together for the next two months—why don't we skip the part where you slowly realize I'm cooler than I seem and go straight to the friendship?"

" _Wa_ y too strongly." Aubrey shook her head and hastened her steps, leaving him to watch her walk away.

* * *

 **INDIANA**

"Hey, you."

Aubrey looked up from the salad bar selections to see Jesse grinning annoyingly at her.

"Congrats on getting your song to number 93," he said, quickly grabbing the pair of tongs before she did, so he could act like a gentleman and plop a couple of cheery tomatoes onto her place. "The Trebles currently have three songs on there—but don't let that take away from your own success."

Aubrey glared at his attempt at playful banter. "And now we're one hit song closer to knocking you off the competition, Swanson," she shot back, echoing Emily's optimism.

"Ah, the claws come out," Jesse smirked triumphantly. "But, hey, I'm a good guy; I'm willing to give you tips on how to triple your chart success. How about tonight, over din—?"

"No."

* * *

 **ILLINOIS**

Aubrey adjusted slowly to life on the road but it seemed that everyone around her was adjusting more quickly. She had hoped that their downtime would be spent working on their upcoming album and not just experimenting on repeat performances of ' _That Thing You Do.'_ And since encores were strictly not allowed, there really wasn't much else to rehearse for.

So it didn't really bother her when the girls all decided to head to the state fair carnival for a night of fun; it wasn't like they were losing precious practice time. She was, however, grossed out by the amount of corndogs Fat Amy swallowed in order to beat Bumper at an eating contest.

"Can we please go to the comfort room? I think I need to hurl."

Chloe giggled and nodded, and they left Beca behind to watch over Emily. Or maybe it was the other way around. The excitable bassist would have easily been lost in the crowd if she weren't so tall; Beca, on the other hand, wouldn't have been as easy to spot.

Moments later, Aubrey was primping in front of the restroom mirror beside Chloe when she realized that, since she now worked for the band, Chloe had their manager's ear twenty-four seven. "Hey, what do you think what Ana—I mean, Stacie, said earlier?" she asked. "You know, about waiting until _after_ the tour to begin working on original music?"

Chloe hummed as she adjusted her top. "I guess she doesn't want you distracted."

"But we play the same song over and over, we can pretty much play ' _That Thing You Do_ ' in our sleep." She paused. "She doesn't say anything to you?"

"Not really," shrugged Chloe. "At first she said my responsibility was your wardrobe, and now we're talking about photo shoots and engagements with fans." She laughed. "I have no idea what I'm doing, honestly. But I'll do whatever I can to help the Bellas."

* * *

 **WISCONSIN**

"Good morning!"

Aubrey stifled a yawn behind her hand and nodded at Chloe and Beca. "Good morning," she greeted.

The girls were sitting cross-legged on the couch, facing each other. Chloe's stuffed bear Christopher was sitting between them and, above him, the two were playing red hands. Aubrey shook her head in amusement and continued toward the kitchen.

"Oh, and you've got mail on the counter," added Chloe, jerking her hands back to avoid Beca's slap. "It's from home and it's pretty thick."

Aubrey glanced at the large envelope in surprise. She didn't expect her parents to have cared to reply to the letter Stacie insisted they send, informing their families about how to communicate with the band while they were on tour. Aubrey briefly wondered if she had left anything at home.

"Go on, open it!" Chloe said eagerly.

Aubrey peeled the tape off the flap and shook out the contents.

"Tch." She held up the town newsletter exasperatedly to show Chloe.

"The _Barden Bulletin_?" Chloe said confusedly.

"I guess they couldn't bother actually _writing_ anything and thought this was an easier way to let me know how things are going on at home."

"Come on, I'm sure there's a letter somewhere there."

Aubrey peeked inside the envelope and indeed there was, written in her father's stationery. It didn't take more than a few seconds to finish reading the one page. "Apparently James Mattingly is interning at the state capitol this summer."

Beca turned back to Chloe with a frown. "Who?"

"Her college rival. He's _almost_ as smart as Aubrey is," explained Chloe, beaming proudly at her.

"My father says this 'recreational hobby' of mine better be as impressive on my resume as an internship at the capitol," added Aubrey.

She and Beca rolled their eyes in unison. " _Please._ This guy's going to have 'getting coffee for old sacks' on his resume while _you're_ going to have a hit song heard by hundreds of thousands of people on yours," Beca said fiercely. "If that's not impressive enough for your parents, then maybe you should've tried harder to have been on Apollo 11."

Aubrey smiled. She caught Chloe's eye and knew that they were both thinking the same thing: having Beca in the band was good for them. Aubrey, on her part, was glad that there was someone as passionate about this career choice as she was, and Chloe seemed to enjoy having Beca around. It was a good distraction from her nodes.

* * *

 **MINNESOTA**

Aubrey was ecstatic. That was a word she rarely used to describe herself but tonight it really seemed like she was on cloud nine. The reason wasn't what she expected would make her happy—it wasn't 'being heralded as the greatest female singer-songwriter, poised to take on the next decade of music by storm'—but it was close. In fact, considering how unfulfilled she had been feeling over not getting much music done in the past few weeks, it was _very_ close.

The Bellas had gone out with Stacie that night to a bar, initially hoping to unwind before their big show the next day, but word had gotten out that the Barden Bellas were hanging around a local pub, to where people soon flocked to rub elbows with them.

That was how Aubrey found herself stuck in a booth between two fans, while more surrounded her table. They were eagerly listening to her talk about what it was like being an artist, what it was like to write _'That Thing You Do.'_ Aubrey obliged to answer all their questions, feeling her thirst for something creative finally being quenched.

"Well, I started making my own music when I realized that there weren't a lot of songs out there by women," she was saying, to a small crowd of eager fans—of both genders. "We wanted to write about normal, everyday experiences from a woman's perspective and one of those happened to be that feeling of having an almost debilitating crush on someone…"

It was exhilarating to have so many people listen to her with attentiveness, like they truly respected the process of making music and recognized that she was someone who undertook that. It knew inflated her ego but she still indulged in their praises—it was her own version of a high.

Eventually she had to excuse herself, in the middle of teasing the other songs she had planned to release, to go to the bathroom. On her way back, she bumped unceremoniously—but not likely coincidentally—into Jesse.

"Oh! Hey, you! Haven't seen much of you tonight," he grinned. Aubrey once again noticed that his grin was so unfailingly cheerful that she wondered what could ever make it go away. Jesse nodded at the group still waiting for Aubrey at her booth. "Looks like you've got yourself a good following over there."

"As have you." Aubrey in turn nodded over his shoulder, to where a gaggle of girls were batting their eyes and waving daintily.

Finally, something wiped the grin off his face. "Yeah, well…" Recovering quickly, he waved dismissively at the insinuation. "I've kind of got my eyes set on someone else."

Aubrey pursed her lips slightly. She was used to his targeted flirting now but she wasn't in the mood for it tonight. Though she had to admit that he was awfully consistent in his strategy because the next thing he did was to once again offer his expertise.

"Tell you what, I'll teach you a way to ditch large crowds of people."

"I think I can handle them myself." Aubrey turned back toward the people still eagerly waiting for her and started to make her way back.

But Jesse stopped her. "Then how about I help you out with your music?"

Aubrey raised an eyebrow. "You think I'm going to let a _man_ teach me about _my_ music?" She pushed him to the side.

But Jesse intercepted her again. "I'll help you learn the ropes of the industry!" he offered, sounding almost desperate. "It might be useful to know what the business is like before you get into bed with it, right?"

Aubrey actually considered that last one. Stacie had been persistently dodging her efforts to get them to focus on the long-term, and she was worried that Chloe was beginning to do the same, being preoccupied with her work. If she were being honest, Jesse was really the only one who could tell the future would be like for the Bellas, since the Trebles had gone through it already.

"Fine," she conceded. "But _only_ because I want the Bellas to be successful. Don't start getting any ideas, Swanson."

* * *

So Aubrey now understood why Chloe had been distracted for the past few days. She was glad that Chloe had the surgery to remove her nodes because it meant that her vocal cords could begin healing. Unfortunately, that also meant she couldn't speak for a week or two, and Aubrey was hoping to have an extra voice on her side when she finally confronted Stacie about her concerns.

Nevertheless, the sight of the backup dancers parading outside their tent reignited her anger and she alone pulled Stacie aside after their performance. "I hope you don't make a habit of making decisions without me," she warned her manager carefully.

"You mean the dancers?" Stacie frowned, thinking Aubrey had gotten over that already. "They were just embellishments to the stage. I didn't think you'd mind that much."

"They were a part of the _performance_ ," Aubrey corrected. "And as the band leader, I think I deserve to be informed of any additions _to_ the performance."

Stacie looked at her for a beat and nodded apologetically. "You're right, Aubrey. I'm sorry. I suppose Chloe would have said no, too, if she hadn't been at the hospital."

It was Aubrey's turn to furrow her brow. "Wait, so you would've talked to _Chloe_ about this but not me?"

"Well, Chloe is in charge of your overall image."

"What _exactly_ is Chloe's job, Stacie?"

Stacie made a face as though Aubrey had asked a needless question. "She's your publicist. _And_ she does everything I can't do—and more. Okay? Now, come on let's get back to celebrating!"

* * *

Growing cautious of losing her grasp of the band's direction, Aubrey vowed to spend the rest of their days on tour working hard polishing the songs for their upcoming album. She didn't mind that the girls cared less about it than she did because at least she could work in peace and quiet while they had their fun exploring the town and visiting the fairs.

On their last day in Minneapolis, she set up shop in their hotel living room to spend the whole day working on their music while the others were free to hang around the city. Unfortunately, Jesse had declared that he was doing the same and suggested they do it together. After making him promise to stay on the opposite side of the room and not utter a word unless spoken to, Aubrey agreed.

A few hours into her songwriting, Aubrey realized that she was staring at the same spot on the paper in front of her. She had let herself daydream about more people coming up to her and asking about the inspiration behind certain songs. She blushed in embarrassment for getting ahead of herself and turned to Jesse, who was humming quietly while plucking his guitar.

"Jesse?"

The Treble looked up at once, like an eager puppy, happy to finally be addressed. "Yeah?"

"What was it like, recording your first album?"

Jesse put his guitar down on the carpet and crawled closer to her. "It was like magic," he grinned. "I don't have any kids but that's what I imagine it's like to bring something to this world that's entirely your own, you know?"

Aubrey felt a shiver of excitement. "I know. I can't wait."

"But be careful not to forget the journey when keeping your eyes firmly on the destination," advised Jesse. "Enjoy the tour while it lasts. You've still got a long way to go."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, with the Trebles it took a while before we got to see the inside of a recording studio. We had to do publicity for our record first."

"Publicity?"

"Yeah, like—well, touring is one but you're already kind of doing that. Also, there were some radio shows, interviews, and we played our songs in events around LA," recalled Jesse. "It was pretty cool. We got tons of free stuff and we even got on TV"

Aubrey scoffed. "You didn't become a musician to be on TV and get free stuff."

"No, I didn't," he agreed, then smiled. "They were just an added bonus."

Aubrey rolled her eyes. "Maybe if you focused on your music more than your bonuses you would have gotten more than _three_ songs on the chart."

Jesse hesitated for a moment, and Aubrey noticed. "What, did I actually offend you?"

"Impossible. But, uh, are you expecting to release all _original_ songs?"

"What else?" Aubrey frowned.

"Covers? A Christmas album maybe?"

Aubrey narrowed her eyes, wondering if Jesse was just messing with her. "I don't think so. Once they hear what I have prepared for our debut album, the label won't need us to do any of that."

* * *

 **IOWA**

Aubrey drummed her fingers on the bar's wooden surface, trying to decide between three songs which was more suited for their album. One was really quite avant-garde, which was a bit risky but could pay off immensely if it caught on, and the other two were more toned down versions. She took a sip of wine and shifted to a more comfortable position in her seat and tried to imagine the responses she would be getting from each song.

"Hey, you."

Aubrey set the wine glass down and turned to see Jesse with his signature goofy grin, looking at her expectantly. She also took notice of his clothes—a dark blue evening jacket over pressed white shirt and some fancy shoes—and raised her eyebrow. "Hey…?"

Jesse approached and saw the notebook on the table. "You brought _that_?" he said amusedly. "Come on, let's go."

"But you said you'd help me pick out songs," protested Aubrey. Jesse closed the notebook and dragged her off the stool.

"Yeah, let's do that over dinner," he said casually, throwing down a bill to pay for Aubrey's drink, causing her to scowl.

"I can pay for my own drinks, thanks. And why are you dressed like that? Where are we going for dinner? … Wait a second—you tricked me! This is a date, isn't it?"

"I am offended by your accusation, Aubrey," responded Jesse, looking anything but. "As the lead singer of the Treblemakers, I am a minor celebrity and I need to maintain a public image. Also, I'm hungry. So if you want my help you're going to have to come to dinner with me," he added cheekily. "I made reservations at a nice Italian place not too far from here. You don't have to order anything if you don't want to."

Aubrey rolled her eyes and resigned herself to a dinner with Jesse, even allowing him to hold the door open for her. But she was determined not to make the evening resemble any sort of a date. "Fine, but that doesn't mean I don't get to work." She swiped her notebook back from Jesse and flipped it to the last open page. "So I've got three more slots to fill and I'm definite that one should be the upbeat, dance-y one—"

"Mhm."

"—but I can't decide between these three," she pulled on the sleeve of his jacket to stop him from walking while they were directly under the street lamp.

Jesse put his head closer to hers took read the list. "Which one is this one again?"

Aubrey started humming and singing a few lines. Jesse smiled and kept his eyes on her while she sang, and asked her to repeat it. Then he asked again—which was about the time Aubrey realized he was messing with her.

"Sorry!" he laughed, rubbing the spot where Aubrey had hit him. "I just really like hearing you sing—well, something other than ' _That Thing You Do_ ,' you know?"

Aubrey loosened up and grunted, "Thanks… I think."

"What about this one?" Jesse pointed down at the notebook again. "' _Boyfriend.'_ I don't think I've heard that one."

"Oh, it's new—Chloe just wrote that awhile ago."

"Huh."

"What?" Aubrey asked, as Jesse had paused before continuing to walk.

"I didn't know Chloe wrote for the Bellas, too," he said. "Not that there's anything weird about it—I think it's cool."

"But you knew she used to be in the band, right?"

"Yeah, but I just assumed you did all the writing," shrugged Jesse. "I mean, you're always working on the song list by yourself."

Aubrey looked down at her notebook thoughtfully. Of the songs she decided were going to be in their debut album, she realized that three of them were co-written by Chloe back when they were in college.

"But like I said, I think it's kinda cool that you're all in it together," continued Jesse. "With the Trebles, you know, it's just the three of us. I guess that's why I like going on tour with Residual Heat so much—it's like we got this whole new family. It must be fun to have four other girls with you all the time."

Aubrey's mind was out of the conversation; she suddenly found herself looking into the future—a year and a half into the future, when the Bellas would have gone just as far as the Trebles have, if not farther. She wondered if she was being ignorant in assuming that things were going to be the same. By then, she won't have the massive repertoire of songs-written-in-college that she currently had; the Bellas would have to come up with new music, based on new experiences.

"—until the end of summer, I mean," Jesse corrected himself, "when Emily has to go back to school, right?"

Aubrey blinked and looked up at Jesse. "Oh. Yeah…"

Sensing he must have said something to trigger her into contemplation, Jesse stopped walking once again. "I'm sorry. Did I upset you?"

Aubrey shook her head. "No, I just… I guess I'm just realizing that I haven't thought that far ahead—I mean, I've thought about our album and all the important stuff. But the band…"

She suddenly realized where she was and whom she was talking to, and felt it unwise to continue down her current train of thought so she snapped herself out of it and, for good measure, punched Jesse on the shoulder again. "You said you were going to help me pick songs! So, come on, you self-proclaimed expert," she smirked, "help me."

Jesse looked confused and maybe a little disappointed that Aubrey wasn't comfortable speaking more openly with him, but he shrugged it off and let her go on about the song list again.

* * *

"Okay, we'll just be here discussing our recording schedule."

Aubrey caught Beca smirking at Chloe, whom she was sure was less than enthused about the discussion, on her way to take Emily to the bathroom.

They had just received news that the Bellas were cutting their time on the Midwest tour short to head straight to LA, on the label president's orders now that their song had breached the top 10 in the country. Which, to Aubrey, not only meant that she was closer than ever to realizing her dream, but the confidence placed in them raised the standards bar for absolutely everything the Bellas would have to do next.

Their debut album had to be _phenomenal_. And the moment Aubrey began planning that achievement in her mind she remembered her talk with Jesse the previous night.

"Don't worry, I'm not _really_ going to talk about our recording schedule," she assured Chloe once they were alone. The redhead barely suppressed her look of relief. "I know your voice is still on the mend so you can just nod or shake your head, okay?"

Chloe frowned and cocked her head, as if to ask if everything was okay.

"Yeah, I… okay, this is weird but I just wanted to ask if—you know, now that your nodes are removed—if you were thinking of rejoining the Bellas? Maybe after Emily goes back to school?"

Chloe was genuinely surprised by her question and it was clear that it had never crossed her mind. She looked at Aubrey almost apologetically and said quietly, "Bree, even if my throat heals by the end of summer, it's not a guarantee that I'll have my vocal range back. And if I can't sing above a G-sharp then what's the point of singing at all, right?" she added as a joke.

But Aubrey was too fixated on Chloe's instinctive reaction to laugh at an old inside joke of theirs. She couldn't help but notice that Chloe was _surprised_ —it seemed that she, like Aubrey, hadn't thought that far ahead about the band's composition. It made sense; Aubrey had been focusing on the music while Chloe had been getting the hang of her new job.

Aubrey mentally flinched at the vision in her head. Chloe's new _job_?

Ever since Aubrey had known her, the only thing Chloe had ever firmly decided about her future was a snapshot of a happy family. Occasionally she would add to that picture—like if they were walking down a street and she would notice a tree she would want in her yard, or a color that would be perfect for the imaginary baby's room. But, unlike Aubrey, Chloe had never planned any specifics on the road to that future, choosing instead to go with the flow of life.

Aubrey knew that it wasn't her place to judge what Chloe decided to do for a living, and although Chloe politely listened to every single one of her empowering speeches about women in the workforce, it still infuriated Aubrey that she had such blind faith in the universe—most notably during the Great Fight of '65 when Chloe couldn't make up her mind about college applications.

Chloe truly didn't care what she did for a living; all that mattered was _that picture_. Aubrey had calmed down eventually, after realizing that it didn't matter at all what—or if—Chloe studied in college; she was going to get that picture either way. It was also around that time that she learned how different their lives were.

* * *

"It's not that I don't _want_ to be on TV but is it so wrong to want to focus on the album before all of that publicity?" Aubrey was thinking out loud on their way back to their seat after their meeting with Stacie.

"We've got all the time in the world, why not make the most of it?" shrugged Fat Amy.

Emily raised her hand. "Uh, _I_ don't."

"Exactly," Aubrey nodded at Emily. "We should prioritize, right?"

"Well…" Emily began hesitantly as she settled into the window seat. "I kinda think it'd be cool to be on TV. Everyone at home could see us! And like Stacie said, we left the tour early so I _do_ have more time..."

"Still, I'd be more comfortable if Stacie focused on our record more than anything else."

"You gotta learn to relax," Fat Amy said, taking the seat closest to the aisle so she'd have more legroom, "get used to the rock star life. You don't want to be the weird new kid who doesn't get invited to parties, do you?"

"I couldn't care less."

A few minutes passed in silence as the effects of the night wore off to give way to fatigue and, just as Aubrey started contemplating going back to Stacie to ask for a specific date when they would get to recording, Beca returned to her seat across the aisle.

Aubrey watched as the brunette tried not to wake her sleeping seatmate on her way to the empty seat and failed. Chloe pushed herself up to a sitting position and pulled Beca down beside her. Aubrey couldn't hear them but she knew, judging by the small shaking caused by Chloe's giggles, that they were having a quiet conversation—or at least Beca must have been speaking, making Chloe laugh.

Aubrey felt a tinge of guilt followed quickly by relief. At first she wondered if she should be doing more to help Chloe through her sickness but then she realized that Beca had been picking up the slack while she had been busy working on the album. But as she watched Beca reach up to turn the overhead light off and saw Chloe snuggle closer to her, Aubrey wondered if that wasn't entirely a good thing.

* * *

Aubrey angrily pulled off the leather booths she was forced to wear for the stupid juvenile beach movie. It would have been a fraction more bearable if they were at an _actual_ beach instead of a studio where the breeze was blocked by walls—but at this point Aubrey did not have the patience for thinking that.

Her coat was already thrown haphazardly over the closed toilet and she added the vest and hat on top of it. She turned around with a huff and, placing her hands on either side of the marble sink, she glared at herself in the mirror. The impossibly thick layer of make-up they applied to make her face more pronounced on camera now looked like melting candlewax and the hair on top of her head was in disarray from the rough way she discarded her hat.

Aubrey knew that most people thought being a musician was all hard work and dedication _only_ _until_ that one big break when they get signed—after that, people assumed their lives were a smooth-sailing spectacle of fame and fortune. She bet they didn't realize how demeaning the process was for the artist.

She splashed water on her face to get rid of the image of the undignified woman reflected in the mirror. The cool water also helped release some of the emotional heat building up in her and she took a moment to put things in perspective.

She was _so_ close to her dream—and so _much_ closer than Aubrey would have imagined two months ago. Heck, _three_ months ago she had considered giving up on it. Losing her head over a silly appearance in a movie undermined all that there was to be thankful for. So what if they had to pander a bit more to the masses? They never would have been there in the first place if their popularity hadn't rapidly spread touring state fairs.

Being relatable and popular means more fans, and satisfied fans buy records—it was just business. The music was separate; the music was _hers_. So as long as she never lost sight of it, Stacie's business-first policies shouldn't get in the way.

With a much cooler head now, Aubrey still found comfort in the fact that they were flown out to LA immediately. He might not have greeted them on arrival but Aubrey took it as a sign of confidence from the president of Residual Heat that the Bellas were important and capable enough if he felt like he couldn't wait until they finished their tour.

* * *

"I'm going for a walk."

Aubrey knew it wasn't the most mature of behaviors (nor the nicest) to attack Chloe over dinner like that, but she'd had enough—for Christ's sake, the president didn't even _care_ who they were—and she relied on Chloe to take it after all these years of being able to. Moreover, a tiny part of her was jealous that Chloe was so quick to side with Stacie. Maybe Chloe needed a wake-up call, too.

Ironically, however, dumping all of her frustrations on Chloe had their usual effect on Aubrey: she was no longer that angry. But standing still in the middle of the hotel lobby with no plan in mind was not characteristic of her so she continued forward, past the blonde receptionist's desk and past the elevators, toward the stairwell. Maybe a little exercise would do her well and give her an idea of what to do instead on the way back to her room.

The short climb to the second floor proved uneventful—that is, until she swung the heavy door leading to the end of the hallway open.

"—how many calls I've made trying to find the _Evian_ hotel—?!"

"I said _Avalon—_ A-VA-LON!"

"It's that stupid accent of yours—makes me wanna shove my tongue down your throat—mmff—!"

" _Jesus Christ!_ "

With the sound of a plunger popping off the toilet, Fat Amy pulled back and froze, allowing Bumper a little leeway to wiggle sideways from his position against the wall to look behind his partner. "Oh," he said unemotionally. "It's blondie."

Fat Amy turned around slowly, looking like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

Speaking of Fat Amy's hands—Aubrey quickly averted her eyes before she could see where they were placed. "Let me guess," she said irritably, glaring at a sconce. "You've grown tired of your little game and realized that the only reason you were fighting was because you _liked_ each other."

"Er… sure, if that works for you," Fat Amy replied hesitantly, to which Bumper frowned in confusion.

Quickly reading his expression, Aubrey narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Don't tell me you've been sleeping with _each other_ this whole time?"

Fat Amy twiddled her thumbs. "Er… sure, if that works for—"

"Amy!"

"But—oh, come on." Fat Amy threw up her hands exasperatedly, looking between Bumper's raised eyebrow and Aubrey's… also raised eyebrow. She faced Aubrey first. "What does it matter if I've been having a little fun on the side? I'm still dedicated to the band, okay?"

"Uh, _hello_?" Bumper cut in indignantly. "Are you saying we've only been ' _having a little fun_ ' a hundred and fifteen times this summer?"

"Bumper—"

"So _he's_ who you've been M.I.A. for all throughout the tour? Jesus, Amy!"

"Aubrey—"

"Hey, ' _he'_ has feelings!"

"And all those things you described… oh, God— _gross!_ She ate chocolate all over you?!"

Bumper fixed Fat Amy with a glare. "You told her?! That was a _very_ intimate moment between us—but oh, I'm sorry, to you it was probably just _having a little fun!_ And, by the way, nothing about _it_ is _little_ ," he clarified to a disgusted Aubrey.

"OKAY!" Fat Amy bellowed before Aubrey could respond. "I think we all just need to calm down and put things in perspective... Aubrey," she turned to the bandleader with her palms pressed together, "what do I need to make this all go away? I mean I've got a reputation to uphold here."

Both Aubrey and Bumper let out snorts of derision. Frankly, Aubrey didn't care what Fat Amy did in her spare time—even if it was with Bumper, whom she had always thought was an egotistic moron—as long as Amy put as much time and energy into the band as she did into her... whatever it was she had with the Treble. But after what had just happened that day, she saw Amy's plea as a perfect opportunity to gain more support, seeing as she was losing Chloe's.

"Take our music seriously," she said. "Be on _my_ side when I press Stacie about our studio time—don't just tell me to calm down and 'enjoy the freedom while it lasts.' Do that and I won't tell anyone about this... this _thing_ you two are having."

Fat Amy blinked. "That's it?" But then surprise gave way to reason and she got around to really thinking about it. "Hmm, I don't know, Aubrey… It's not really aligned to my personal marketing, you know? I'm more carefree and—I mean, of course. Anything you want," she conceded hastily after Aubrey gave her a threatening look.

Bumper cleared his throat to bring the attention back to him. "Don't think you're out of the woods yet," he said, wagging a stubby finger at her. "I want to come back to his 'having a little fun' thing."

Fat Amy sighed. "All right. But that is a conversation that should be done in private, not out here in the hallway—what are we, animals?"

"You were literally _just_ about to jump each other's bones before I walked in on you," Aubrey pointed out in disbelief.

"Well, yeah, 'cause we really _are_ animals when we—"

"Stop! Just... stop."

* * *

 **Response to Reviews:**

 **RJRMovieFan** (Nov. 23) - I'm glad you felt disappointed in Aubrey. It's probably because we all have a preexisting understanding of her 'character' but the fact that you at least expected _something_ means she's not as one-dimensional as Jimmy was in the movie. That was my goal when adapting TTYD—to not make Aubrey (that much of) a jerk. I think that's what drives some of the complexity: my trying to make it a more realistic, relatable story for all the characters. It is almost ending, which makes me both happy and sad. If I estimated correctly, expect two chapters and an epilogue soon. :)

 **jalex1** (Nov. 23) - Haha! Yes, Beca better damn kiss her face off indeed! I hope seeing a tiny bit into Aubrey history with Chloe added a little more nuance to Chloe's decision/sacrifice. I'm sad and excited for the ending! It has also been a huge pleasure to write, although I am now sick of the movie's soundtrack. D:

 **Guest reader** (Nov. 23) - Thank you! Well, working with established characters that we all already love helps haha. And isn't that why we read/write fan fiction? Movies are just so limited compared to our imaginations. (Gross, that sounded like an ad for lol)

 _ **\- Bechloe fan** (Nov. 23) - _ IKR? Just when I think I've run out of plot twists, out comes a new one! _Aubrey probably regrets saying what she said especially after learning the truth but I think it only made her want Chloe to go home even more. To Aubrey, it wasn't a matter of appreciating Chloe anymore—it was 'what was best for her.' I like to think that she appreciated Chloe more for her past contributions than her current ones and, like she said, all that mattered now was their future._ Solid point about Stacie, but I guess Aubrey's really just had enough.

 _ **\- Reader guest** (Nov. 23) - I think that, like Beca, Aubrey had her own realizations about the future and, again like Beca, her immediate concern was Chloe's. _ I honestly think it's neither. _Chloe being there doesn't negatively affect her own dream and after being friends with Chloe for so long it's hard to see her not caring at all. Yes, her main focus the entire time was her career—and she's entitled to that; Chloe wasn't the only one who left her life behind after all—but, in Aubrey's mind, everything she does is for the good of the band. Whether or not that's true is up to the Bellas themselves._ I don't wanna spoil it but if you've seen the movie you can sort of guess whether Chloe will come or not haha.

 **Big fan** (Nov. 23) - God I'd love to be one haha but unfortunately I can't really come up with anything original. *sigh* Plus I think it's more challenging (and relies on the actors, director, score, etc.) to convey emotion in movies because the audience is not being fed the words to describe them. But thank you! That compliment made my day. I ended this chapter on a lighter note so you wouldn't feel so lost haha.

* * *

 **A/N:** Before anything else, I recommend reading the two italicized responses to reviews up there since they might shed some light on your understanding of Aubrey— _from Aubrey's perspective._ I'm not trying to defend her or anything haha. (Okay, maybe 23% trying.)

There isn't much new information in this chapter since we kind of already know how Aubrey's been feeling (and because we all expected Fat Amy/Bumper didn't we?) but I hoped it would get you to empathize with Aubrey a bit and see the buildup to the fight: how she was with her parents, how she felt about Beca and about Chloe's work, what she learned from Jesse, and especially the testing of her patience when it came to their album. Part II will focus on more recent events and what happens at the end of Aubrey's storyline. So my apologies, you'll have to wait for Beca's and Chloe's ending a bit longer haha.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**A/N:** This turned out longer than expected, sorry. I recommend reading in Helvetica or Palatino (for those who read better with serifs) so it's easier to distinguish between normal and _italicized_ text – 'cause Aubrey can get real emphatic when she's shrill haha. Also, the 'PRESENT' towards the end doesn't mean 2016, it means it picks up after Chapter Twelve.

* * *

 **CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

 **AUBREY - PART II**

Distracted with trying to erase the past five minutes from memory, Aubrey failed to recognize the man in a bathrobe exiting one of the hotel rooms she passed until he called her attention. "Oh—hey, you!"

Aubrey turned her head in surprise to find Jesse grinning at her, but then made the connection that if Bumper were here then Jesse would be, too. She scowled at both the inadvertent reminder of Bumper's escapades as well as her own ignorance for being surprised, which she blamed on the former.

"Whoa, not in the mood?" Jesse said jokingly, reading her expression.

Aubrey rearranged her features and shook her head. "No—I mean… yes. I think?"

Jesse nodded understandingly and reopened his door. "Wanna talk about it?"

"Aren't you, er, busy?" She gestured up and down his robe.

"We just arrived after driving halfway across the country," explained Jesse as he escorted Aubrey inside. "I thought I could sleep it off but I realized what I _really_ needed was a hot tub and some scented candles."

"And here I thought you were made of tougher stuff."

"Hey, even the toughest have their soft spots," grinned Jesse.

His statement left Aubrey wondering if _she_ had any softness left in her, considering how she had been acting. She wasn't angry anymore so she was inclined to believe that she had, but whenever her mind drifted back to the label, Stacie, and their album, her blood just boiled.

It was frustrating, not knowing whether you were the one being unreasonable or if everyone around you _wasn't_ being reasonable. And Aubrey was beginning to worry it was affecting her sanity.

"Sometimes when you act tough for so long, you start to lose that softness," she said.

"What happened?" prodded Jesse, knowing she wasn't talking about him.

She didn't want to bring up Fat Amy and Bumper. On one hand, Jesse probably already knew, being the latter's band mate, and he could help her understand how it might affect their bands; but on the other hand, it wasn't worth Jesse canceling his relaxing evening for her.

As for her bigger problem, Jesse _had_ proven himself to be helpful during the tour—telling her about the industry and helping her refine the song list for the album. He was even reasonable when it came to her frustrations, perhaps more reasonable than her own band mates. In light of everything that happened, Jesse could in fact be the only person truly on her side.

"I sort of… walked out on dinner with the Bellas tonight," she confessed.

"Okay. Why?"

"We met Siler today. Or rather, he met _us._ "

Aubrey recounted bitterly how the president of their label didn't seem all that impressed by meeting the Barden Bellas, how he didn't even know Stacie's name, and how he humiliated Aubrey by dismissing her 'very reasonable' request to talk about their album.

"But the worst thing was that my own band—my own _friends_ didn't back me up!" Aubrey cried, pacing back and forth while Jesse sat on the couch turning his head side to side following her. "They _say_ they're on my side but if they really were they wouldn't be defending the label, would they? And it's just like you said—they're milking our hit for as long as they can! We don't even have a schedule for our recording session yet. All Stacie does is book stupid publicity events."

Jesse looked up at her with a mix of sympathy and admonition. "First of all, I didn't say they were 'milking' it, I just said they were probably going to take advantage—"

"That's the same thing!"

"—but more importantly, I didn't tell you about all of that to cause a rift between you and your friends!" chastised Jesse. "I did it to _lower your expectations_ of what it would be like after the tour. And speaking of," he added in a slightly annoyed tone, "I could've warned you not to take the call as a sign of confidence from Siler if you'd said good-bye before leaving."

Aubrey stopped pacing and shifted her weight guiltily. She supposed Jesse did deserve a good-bye. "Sorry. I guess I didn't really think about it. I was just—"

"So focused on getting to LA?" Jesse finished with a good-natured smile, and then shook his head amusedly. "You are truly the most ambitious woman I have ever met, Aubrey. But you've also got a very one-track mind, you know?"

"So I've been told," she deadpanned. "But isn't it important to have someone focusing on the future while everyone goes off daydreaming about Disneyland and getting caught up in relationships?"

Jesse gave her a funny look, as though he was trying to read which relationship she meant. Again, Aubrey didn't want to discuss Fat Amy and Bumper so she continued quickly, "I'm just saying, I think my actions were justified. As the leader I have the responsibility to keep my eyes on the objective, don't I? If my members stray, it's my job to put them back on the path."

Jesse rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. "I guess that makes sense…"

Aubrey narrowed her eyes. "You also think I'm being unreasonable?"

"No!" Jesse insisted at once. "I think you're entitled to feel that way but—and just to play devil's advocate here—is it so wrong to cut Stacie and the label some slack? I mean Stacie is my manager, too, and she hasn't failed us so far—"

"Hang on. Stacie _is_ your manager," Aubrey pondered out loud. "And _you're_ here in LA, which means she pulled you out of the tour, too. Why _are_ the Treblemakers here, Jesse?"

The Treble hesitated before answering. "We're, uh… we're going on tour this fall and releasing our second album so we had to prepare—"

" _Seriously?_ " Aubrey resumed her pacing in anger. "Stacie had time to work _that_ into your schedule the past few days but she can't be bothered to get the Bellas studio time?"

"To be fair," Jesse said carefully, "the Trebles are her responsibility, too, and we've been on the label for over a year. And the Bellas are different—this is a whole new kind of thing for Residual Heat, selling an all-female band. It's not as easy."

Aubrey gave him a few seconds to let him realize the meaning behind what he just said. "So you're basically saying," she said, her voice lowering dangerously, "that because we're women, we're not as _bankable_ are you are?"

Jesse's eyes widened in panic. "I didn't say it like _that_ —"

"Then what _are_ you saying, Jesse?" Aubrey threw up her hands in frustration. "That I should just take it lightly when people don't take me seriously? That I should just make myself pretty and be on every magazine in town so people would _like_ me and buy our record?"

"I'm saying lower your expectations, Aubrey!" Jesse exclaimed almost pleadingly. "Look, I don't doubt that you're going to be great—but for your own sake, _lower your expectations._ You're on a path to having all your dreams come true but if you keep expecting it to happen right around the corner then you're going to be disappointed at every turn."

Aubrey looked at Jesse. He only wanted to help her, she knew that. They had this thing between them (or at least he thought so) but in spite of that Aubrey knew that his advice always genuinely came from his own experiences in the business. But throughout their arrangement, he would always stop himself from saying certain things out loud because he knew it would upset her, so it only hurt her more to think that what he was saying now was likely true.

"I worked hard for this," she said, short of stamping her foot. "I _deserve_ to be here."

"I know," Jesse responded gently, sincerely. "And it sucks but hard work and talent can only get you so far. The rest is… just business. It's a business that—that revolves around what other people think of you, and where being successful depends on who you know."

Aubrey didn't want to believe it was true that ' _hard work and talent can only get you so far'._ It was, after all, everything she lived and fought against.

* * *

Aubrey was gently shaken from a terrible night's sleep the next morning by Emily, who greeted her awakening with a beaming smile. "Sorry to wake you so early," she said. "You were asleep by the time I got back and I didn't get to tell you—we're going to be on TV tonight!"

Aubrey blinked back at her slowly.

"The Hollywood Television Showcase, remember?" Emily wasn't letting up on her cheerfulness despite Aubrey's unresponsiveness. "Oh, I see. Maybe you'll find _this_ more interesting… We also got studio time!"

Aubrey finally sat up.

"Stacie really cut it close but she got us a schedule, as promised!"

Aubrey turned and set her feet down on the other side of the bed so Emily couldn't see her expression as she struggled to come up with one.

Stacie _had_ cut it close, and if Aubrey hadn't had that conversation with Jesse last night she would have been ecstatic to hear the news. But once beliefs have been shattered, it wasn't easy to put the pieces back together.

 _Lower your expectations._

"That's great."

"Okay, I'll let you wake up a bit while I take a shower," giggled Emily. "But you better be jumping for joy when I get out!"

Aubrey remained on her bed, staring out the window, while Emily scampered to the bathroom.

Could her nagging have worked?

Thinking it did brought immense satisfaction and relief to Aubrey, for it validated everything she believed in: that hard work, talent, _and_ dedication did equal success no matter what business you were in; and also that Jesse was just being a good guy, thinking that making her more realistic would help her in the long run.

But she didn't need to lower her expectations anymore. Things seemed to be back on track, just the way she planned… right?

* * *

As the girls waited for Stacie to arrive in the hotel lobby an hour and a half later, Aubrey was not surprised to see Chloe joining her cautiously by the entrance. She had that look of her face, a look that Aubrey felt suddenly tired of seeing.

"Bree, I'm sorry."

 _Apologetic._

It was always like that with Chloe. Things would happen, they would disagree and have a big fight. Then Chloe would always come back, apologizing, and things would go back to normal. It didn't matter who was right or wrong, Chloe just wanted the fight to end.

It was tiring, and Aubrey was certain that Chloe was tired of it, too.

"For what?" she asked, keeping any emotion out of her voice.

"For last night," Chloe replied. "For every day since we got to LA. You're my best friend and I—I should have remembered how much this means to you. I should have stuck up for you instead of always asking you to take it easy."

Indeed, it was always like that with Chloe. Granted, their past 'big fights' had always seemed bigger than they were at the time—letting Fat Amy and, later, Beca into the band, or the night Beca changed the tempo of their ballad—but they always ended the same: with Chloe apologizing _just_ after things had fixed themselves.

Aubrey had agreed, out of necessity, to let the rambunctious new foreign exchange student be their lead guitarist despite her apprehensions it would disrupt the group dynamic. But Chloe was just learning to play rhythm guitar back then and no one could carry a melody like Fat Amy. After the fact, Chloe apologized for not seeing it from Aubrey's perspective, and all was well.

And although Beca was an easier choice to make—she was undeniably talented and, personality-wise, didn't seem to be too far out—the same thing happened. When no one turned up to audition, Chloe sat there with her look of quiet vindication. Aubrey acquiesced; Chloe apologized. And when Beca almost ruined their talent show performance, Chloe defended her, Aubrey made Chloe accountable for Beca, and their song became a categorical hit.

It was always like that and now Chloe was apologizing again after learning that they were getting the studio time Aubrey had been clamoring for, hoping things would go back to normal.

"Bree…"

Chloe misconstrued her thoughtful silence as a rejection of her apology but Aubrey was determined to break the cycle this time.

"Why are you here, Chloe?"

As expected, Chloe seemed taken aback by her question. "What do you—?"

"Why did you accept Stacie's offer?" Aubrey said, not wanting to waste time in case Stacie suddenly arrived. "Why did you come along?"

"Do… do you not want me here?"

Aubrey turned to Chloe in surprise. She hadn't realized how those words sounded out loud. "That's not—I didn't mean that." She took a deep breath. "I just wanted to know why because… you never wanted this, did you?"

Chloe frowned. "Well, I never wanted to quit because of my nodes—"

"I mean this whole thing," Aubrey gestured around them. "This life. We've known each other for years, Chloe. I know that this isn't what you planned for your life." She looked at Chloe carefully. "So why are you here?"

It was a crudely executed deflection, in Aubrey's opinion, and if she had been wrong about her suspicions then Chloe would have realized that, too.

But Chloe didn't. Instead, the redhead looked down at her shoes—a move that was very unlike her and one that Aubrey knew from experience Chloe did when she was about to tell a lie.

"I wanted to be here for you," Chloe mumbled, "when your dreams came true." Then, with a little more conviction, "I wanted to be the little piece of home you might have missed as you journeyed through this."

Aubrey softened. She knew that Chloe herself believed it was the truth—and it maybe was, at least for the earlier part of their journey—but she also knew there was a deeper truth that Chloe kept hidden from everyone, even her supposed best friend.

And that was when Aubrey finally realized how much had changed over the last two months. That Chloe felt like she could no longer share the picture of her dreams with her—and vice-versa, if Aubrey's own picture had actually changed—said something about the nature of their relationship. Once upon a time they formed and declared their dreams to each other… and now one was living hers while the other continued to float around, waiting for hers to happen.

Chloe had been there to support Aubrey on her way to her dreams, and if that was the sole basis of their friendship then Aubrey hadn't been a good friend to Chloe all this time.

She reached out to put her hand over Chloe's. "Thank you. I'm glad you were here for that. Our song reaching the top ten, going to LA… You were here when my dreams came true—and I didn't even miss home as much as I thought I would!"

The last part was not Chloe's doing as much as it was her decidedly cutting ties with Barden, but the white lie was intended to soften Aubrey's next words.

"… so if that's truly the reason you're here, Chloe, then you'd have no problem going back to Barden at the end of summer."

* * *

It felt like a whole minute had passed since anyone last spoke. Then Chloe pulled her hand away and Aubrey almost saw a fleck of anger flash in Chloe's eyes.

"Wait, so… so you _don't_ want me here? I thought—"

"Think about it," Aubrey said calmly, finding the irony that she was the one asking Chloe to be reasonable very distasteful. "I'd understand if you wanted to stay because you were hoping to rejoin the Bellas but it doesn't seem like you do."

"Bree, I already told you I can't sing—"

"So what's keeping you here?" pushed Aubrey.

"My—I…"

Aubrey took it as a further sign that she was right when Chloe couldn't even mention her supposed 'job' as the Bellas' publicist to be her reason for staying. But even so, it still didn't seem like Chloe was willing to be forthright with the truth.

And if she couldn't even have the audacity to commit to her decisions, then she should be better off not having to make any, in Aubrey's opinion.

It was no secret to either of them that it infuriated Aubrey that Chloe had such blind faith in the universe, thinking it would just bend itself to gift her with her happily-ever-after. Chloe might have thought it was an endearing quality at the time but Aubrey knew better: the only way to achieve your dreams is through hard work, talent, and dedication. Her unwillingness to commit only proved that she was not ready to make her dreams come true.

And rather than have an argument that would end with Chloe apologizing and getting everything she wanted the easy way, Aubrey was going to break the cycle.

"I really think you should consider going home at the end of the summer," Aubrey said with an air of finality, adding the preamble to distinguish her advice from an order. "You've already done your part and been here for me—and I appreciate that. But if whatever it is you're _still_ here for isn't worth your conviction, then it's probably not better than finishing your college degree and actually making the effort to build your dreams."

* * *

Aubrey was satisfied but not altogether pleased with the way she ended her conversation with Chloe hours ago. But at least she didn't have yet another apology to look forward to from Chloe; it seemed that this time Aubrey was the one who needed to apologize.

As she trailed behind her band on the way to lunch after hours of production meetings and blocking rehearsals, Aubrey continued to reflect on the end of that conversation, particularly on how casually Chloe seemed to return to her cheerful demeanor as she sat closely beside Beca, who seemed uncharacteristically uncomfortable over the gesture.

Shaking herself out of an issue that she believed only mattered a few weeks down the line, Aubrey refocused her sights on something much more immediate: their album.

"Hey, have you seen Stacie lately?" she asked her band mates as they lined up for the buffet.

Emily turned and handed her a plate before they ran out. All of the Hollywood Television Showcases' guest performers and crew were sharing the same lunchroom, causing a huge scramble to be the first to finish their meal and get back to work. "Mmm, nope," she replied. "Haven't seen her since we did blocking. Why?"

"Just wanted to talk about our studio time tomorrow. I was thinking I should let her know which songs we're doing so the recording can go as smoothly as possible."

Emily nodded. "Sounds like a good idea. I'm sure she'll visit us in our dressing room later to wish us good luck."

Unfortunately, when Stacie did visit them hours later, Aubrey was brushed off and asked to focus on being magic for the cameras, which normally would have triggered a response from her but not when she finally took Jesse's advice and lowered her expectations. It must not have been the response her band mates were expecting from her, Aubrey noticed, given that Beca had been watching her curiously ever since she asked Stacie about their album.

But Aubrey didn't bother herself too much about what Beca was thinking. It was becoming more obvious every passing day that Beca's head was not as into the game as Aubrey had previously thought. But she continued to hope that, once everything was settled and everyone—particularly Beca and Chloe—realized where they stood, she would see how far they've come and how far they still need to go, and revive her dedication.

* * *

Not soon after, Aubrey was considering that maybe Beca _did_ see how far they've come, for the drummer was now demanding that she apologize to Chloe for not mentioning her contributions to the band in what Aubrey thought was a rather clever response to the host's unexpected query.

It would have been an incredibly easy thing to do, but Beca just had to demand it in _that_ voice and make _that_ implication.

Aubrey was not one to back down from a fight.

To her credit, Chloe tried to stop Beca from pursuing this—at least _she_ understood the difference between what Aubrey meant on stage and what she felt, right? But Beca was stubborn and kept pressing the non-issue for her own gratification.

It was only when Beca insinuated that she had somehow gravely mistreated Chloe—an act undermined by her obvious affection for her the person she was defending—that Aubrey finally had enough of everyone pinning her as the 'bad guy' just because she was the only one who looked out for the band. In the history of her life, she learned that nobody liked the responsible, hard-working girl; they all flocked to the cheerful, friendly ones.

Jesse had already pointed it out the night before, but the hopeful promise the morning after brought made Aubrey dismiss it: that success in this business depended on _being liked_ and on building connections with people. It clashed against her personality so badly that Aubrey knew it was never going to be possible for her to do it.

And the bitter reminder that hard work, talent, and dedication didn't mean as much as _being liked_ came in the form of Chloe Beale.

* * *

Aubrey would be the first to admit that this wasn't how she imagined the evening to end. She regretted saying all those hurtful words to Chloe but, as she told Beca, those words were the truth. Her friendship with Chloe wasn't healthy. It was about time someone broke the cycle and she knew it wasn't going to be Chloe.

The news about Chloe's father upset her, since it put into new light her asking Chloe to go home earlier that day, but Aubrey was confident that things were not truly over for the redhead. Charles and Mary Beale were nowhere close to her own parents; they loved their daughter no matter her indiscretions. Chloe could do as she does best: apologize, and everything will be all right.

Beca, on the other hand, had her own problems to deal with. And seeing Beca disappear through the door only strengthened her resolve that what she did for Chloe would be justified in the end. Neither Chloe nor Beca had any conviction to commit to what they wanted from each other, so they were better off not trying.

"I don't think you're a monster, Aubrey."

Aubrey was brought out of her thoughts by Emily's quiet declaration. Fat Amy made a small gesture that indicated she was on the fence about it but Emily continued, "You're just… sometimes… too single-mindedly ambitious."

Fat Amy nodded. "Nobody here doesn't think you do everything you can for the band," she said. "But sometimes you gotta ask… is it really what's best for the band, or what's best for _you_?"

All this time Aubrey had held on to the thought the two were the same thing. Now it has become disappointingly clear that they were not. "Maybe you're right," she said. "We're not all here for the same reasons, are we? At least, not anymore."

Without waiting for an answer, Aubrey took her own leave of the dressing room.

* * *

Aubrey had hoped to run into Stacie to get the final word of the night—that word being a reminder of their studio time the next day—but instead she found herself on the opposite end of a hallway heading straight into the path of Residual Heat's president. She attempted a quick getaway, knowing that she had displeased him with her interview but the straightforward hallway unfortunately did not permit that.

"Mr. Siler," she greeted tersely, giving the man's bodyguards a quick once-over.

"Aubrey Posen," he said with a swagger, clearly showing that he had made the effort to learn her name in the past half hour. "That was quite an interesting speech you gave."

Aubrey gave a short nod.

"Relax," chuckled Mr. Siler, taking his sunglasses off and hooking them onto the pocket of his jacket. "I'm not mad—though you've certainly made an impression on me." When Aubrey looked confused, he explained. "Look, I know what you're after. It's what every fresh new artist from some backwater town wants, no offense—"

Aubrey folded her arms and glared at him. "I'm not just like every other artist, Mr. Siler—"

"Oh, I know. What I meant was…" He motioned to his entourage to allow them some privacy, put an arm around Aubrey's shoulders and and steered her toward the now empty lunchroom.

"Not a lot of people know this about me—at least, not until I release my memoir," Mr. Siler said in a hushed tone, "but my father left when I was very young. Never knew him. I had three siblings and my mother raised us all on her own. I am telling you this," he said quickly upon seeing Aubrey's continued confusion, "so you'll believe me when I say that despite what all the tabloids say, I _do_ respect women—"

"You don't seem to show it," Aubrey interjected skeptically. "Not to me or to Stacie."

Mr. Siler raised his hands defensively. "I only give _Stephie_ a hard time because I enjoy seeing my younger employees work hard for my approval. See, more than anything, I respect _hard-working_ people. My mother worked hard to get me an education. I worked hard to _finish_ my education. I've always loved music and so I worked hard to get to where I am now.

"So when I said I know what you're after, I didn't just mean the success, the fame and fortune—I meant that as someone who has had to work hard to deserve everything I got. Stacie is a good kid but I don't doubt that her stunning looks got farther than she should be comfortable with—no offense."

"Adding 'no offense' after saying something mean doesn't make it any less offensive," Aubrey chastised, but she took found it surprisingly easy to take his words seriously; they echoed so much of her own beliefs. "So you understand why I had to say what I said on live TV?"

"I do. I've spent twenty-five years of my life working in this industry but there are still some moments, like tonight," he gestured at her, "when I realize I've got caught up in my success and forgotten about the music."

"I'm really glad to hear you say that, Mr. Siler," Aubrey sighed in relief. "I was worried you were only interested in profiting off _'That Thing You Do'._ "

"Well, after you ambushed me at lunch yesterday I thought I might as well take you seriously," he said in jest. "Anyway, I just wanted to say that I think you are a valuable talent and I look forward to renewing our contract so we can work on those songs you wrote. I'm sure they'll be great."

Mr. Siler clapped her on the shoulder, replaced his sunglasses, and was halfway to the door by the time Aubrey worked out what he meant. "Wait—what?"

The label president turned around slowly, as though he already expected an outburst from her. "Look, Aubrey," he said half apologetically, half firmly. "I respect you as an artist and that stunt you pulled was pretty brilliant, but I can't bend the rules for you."

"What are you talking about?"

At that moment, a green blur flew past the open door followed by Stacie's appearance as she backtracked. "Mr. Siler—" she panted lightly before freezing upon seeing Aubrey in the room with her boss.

"I was just telling your client that I was looking forward to renewing our contract with the Barden Bellas and producing her original songs… in the _next_ album." Mr. Siler folded his arms and peered at Stacie over his sunglasses. "That's not a problem, is it, Stephie?"

Stacie's panicked eyes flitted between his and Aubrey's. She swallowed. "Could Aubrey and I have a minute alone, Mr. Siler?"

* * *

 **PRESENT**

Aubrey rested her elbows on the polished wooden bar nervously. Her guitar case was propped between her chair and the empty one she was saving. She didn't expect to be bothered by a random fan this early in the day but she maintained a closed off demeanor nonetheless. Drumming her fingers impatiently on the counter, she glanced at her watch for the nth time before reminding herself that she should be more worried if Stacie arrived _early_ than if she arrived late.

Just as the last ice cube melted in her untouched iced tea, the door swung open and flooded the bar with sunlight. No one but Aubrey bothered to look at the new arrival but heads certainly began to turn once Stacie wafted through on her way to Aubrey.

"A scotch on the rocks for me, please," the brunette ordered before perching herself on the seat beside Aubrey. She turned to the blonde and smirked. "You know, if this music thing doesn't work out for you, you've got a future in show business. Seriously. I thought you were going to toss the piano at my head like you did with that platter last night—"

Aubrey rolled her eyes. "Oh, get over it; it didn't even hit you. So did it work? What did Siler say?"

Stacie heaved a tired but satisfied sigh. "He was definitely upset. He _insisted_ I get you back, especially after I told him you've been fielding calls from Atlantic and Reprise—"

Aubrey frowned. "Have I?"

"Don't worry about it. I know couple of reps there who owe me; they'll back me up." Aubrey raised an eyebrow but Stacie brushed it off. "Anyway, Mr. Siler seemed to take it more seriously after that. He told me to stop you at all costs while he got in touch with the Board. Then I suggested offering the Bellas both deals—give them the tribute album _and_ the debut album?"

"What did he say?"

Stacie rolled her eyes. "As expected, he said it wasn't the way things were done. He hadn't consulted Marketing about releasing an original album yet, not to mention the costs, and with pressure from competition he couldn't afford a mistake—"

"Sounds reasonable," nodded Aubrey. Stacie slammed her palm on the table in surprise after all of Aubrey's griping.

"Are you _kidding_ me?"

" _Yes, I am!_ So just get to the point, please!"

"Fine." The bartender set down her drink and Stacie twisted in her seat and raised the glass to Aubrey. "Congratulations. Our crazy diabolical plan worked. The Bellas won't be recording _'That Thing You Do'_ in Spanish but, hey, at least they are getting their own album."

* * *

" _Aubrey, I can explain—"_

" _Like I would believe any word out of your lying mouth!" Aubrey's hands were shaking in anger. She needed to break something, or throw something—at some_ one _._

" _You have every reason not to but I would advise that you do anyway," insisted Stacie, circling the room with her hands up defensively in case Aubrey suddenly jumped at her._

 _Instead, Aubrey only demanded answers. "It's a tribute album, isn't it?"_

" _Something like that. You'd record_ 'That Thing You Do _' in Spanish, cover other Residual Heat artists, and collaborate on our yearly Christmas collection—"_

 _Aubrey swore loudly. "Jesse warned me about this. But I trusted you!_ We _trusted you—we thought you were looking out for us!"_

" _I knew you would react like this, which is precisely why I didn't tell you sooner!" argued Stacie._

" _So you waited until we were_ this _close?" Aubrey cried in disbelief. "What, so you could trap us? Leave us no choice? Do you know how much hell you've put us through, playing with our future? Did you not see what just happened tonight because you_ lied _to us?!"_

" _I didn't know what was going on between you and Chloe! But I_ did _know you would quit as soon as you found out you weren't on your way to an actual album so I made sure to do everything I could to_ fix it _before I absolutely had to tell you," Stacie explained rapidly before Aubrey got the idea that she had led them on intentionally. "I_ begged _the office to hold off taking you to LA until the end of the tour but Mr. Siler was insistent. Why do you think I've been pushing for you to do press all the time once we got to LA?"_

" _To sell our record, of course," scoffed Aubrey._

" _No—to sell_ you _!"_

" _That's the same thing!" dismissed Aubrey._

" _Is it?" Stacie took a step closer, sensing that Aubrey was more receptive to hearing her explanation now. (Also, there was a table between them she could duck behind.) "Sure, the more popular the Bellas are, the more likely your future record will get traction but this is the music industry. But there_ are _such things as one-hit wonders—"_

" _I worked hard on the song list! My music is_ good _—"_

" _I know, I know!" Stacie pinched the bridge of her nose in annoyance. "Just hear me out first… You remember your first day here? That radio show I asked you guys to do? Remember what you told the deejay: you wanted to make music that_ fifty percent _of the population could relate to. The execs don't see it yet but the Bellas are a potential_ gold mine. _You reach out to fifty percent of their target demographic just by being women! And the other fifty, too, because, let's face it, you're not so bad to look at."_

 _The cheeky attempt at a compliment did not exactly make Aubrey happy. "So you're exploiting us for our_ gender _?"_

" _It goes without saying that your music_ is _good," Stacie repeated. "After all, I'd ruin the future of women in music if I didn't believe you had the potential, wouldn't I? But the point is, I needed to get_ that _message out all over LA—I spent tonight talking up media reps in the audience, and most of the talking points I've asked Chloe to write up reference that message."_

" _What message is that exactly?" Aubrey asked suspiciously._

" _That Residual Heat is making a bold statement with the Barden Bellas. With all the popularity second-wave feminism is getting, the Bellas could be the label's flagship feminist symbol and soon, with barely any coaxing, the label will be begging_ you _to release a record instead of the tribute album!"_

 _Stacie splayed out her arms proudly, as though her plan was so great it would induce Aubrey to run up to her and wrap her in a grateful hug. But Aubrey only stared at her with her mouth half-open in disbelief, wondering how on earth Stacie could be so careless and irresponsible as to_ not _tell them her plan—and she let Stacie know that as coherently as she could._

" _I had been_ obsessing _—I thought I was the only—_ you _made me think I was crazy for not trusting you!_ You _pinned me as the bad guy!" Aubrey didn't help disprove that when she grabbed a silver platter from the now empty buffet table and flung it at Stacie. Luckily for the manager, physics made it so that the dish clattered uselessly two yards away from its intended target. "Do you have any idea what you've done?!"_

" _I'm sorry!" said Stacie, her proud smile having been wiped off her face when she dodged the projectile. "I knew you would get obsessed—that bake sale was proof enough—but that's partly why I thought keeping Chloe in would be good for the band! I thought she would balance you out. I didn't expect—"_

" _That she'd be distracted by Beca?"_

 _Stacie sighed. "I was going to say that you had a complicated friendship with her… but yes, I suppose I didn't expect her to spend most of her time with Beca either. Although, you deserve some of the blame for Chloe's failure," she added with a pointed look at Aubrey. "When I asked her about you back at Barden she made it seem like you were more receptive than you actually are."_

 _Aubrey prickled. "That's because she thinks her apologies fix everything. But my frustrations were justified! I felt like I was the only one who cared. It drove me crazy! And you're not guilt-free, either," she added accusingly. "Why couldn't you just_ tell _me that was your plan in the first place? I wouldn't have had to think you were taking advantage of us all this time."_

 _Stacie raised an eyebrow. "I think you're forgetting how much you_ despised _me back then. Two months ago—would you have agreed to sign if you knew that the ten 'recorded songs' in your contract_ didn't _mean original songs?"_

 _Aubrey thought about it. Considering she had plotted to approach other promoters just days after the Bellas first signed a contract with a then-promoter Stacie, the answer was an unequivocal no. "Obviously not, but what about when we got to LA?"_

 _At this, Stacie finally looked guilty as she confessed, "I knew you'd be excited to head to the coast but meanwhile_ I _just had my deadline pushed up three weeks. I'm not proud of it, but I panicked. Instead of telling you, I tried to get as many press events booked to gain as much leverage against my boss. That's also why I didn't want you talking to Mr. Siler, in case you both found out my plan…"_

 _Aubrey gestured around them sardonically. "Well, look how well_ that _turned out. And now what do you have to show for all your lying?"_

 _When Stacie looked up at Aubrey, there was a gleam in her eye. "I would've liked a few more days to be sure but… I think everything is in place for the Bellas to be put on the spotlight for revolutionizing women in music. I've made friends in the right places and with the right pitch, may be able to convince Mr. Siler to bump up your album."_

 _Aubrey paused, and then shook her head, reminding herself to lower her expectations. "He seemed pretty firm to me. He said he respected me as an artist, but he won't break the rules for me."_

 _Stacie's eyebrows rose. "He said that?"_

" _Right after he said he looked forward to renewing our contract for our_ next _album. He probably thought that was why I said what I said on the air: to put him in a tight spot and force him into releasing an original album—back when I believed we_ had _an album, that is."_

 _Stacie smirked. "That's what I thought, too. You and your big mouth really choose the wrong times to act out, you know that?"_

" _I do," Aubrey responded grimly, and she and Stacie were reminded of the true cost of that trait of hers. "You kept telling me, 'that's how the business works!' And I wanted to turn the joke on you—I saw the way the business works and took matters into my own hands. Seeing all those industry suits in the front row, I thought I could get my own leverage. Mr. Siler wasn't going to deny me on camera, would he? But then…" Aubrey felt a tiny burst of annoyance. "I didn't think Beca would flip out about it the way she did!"_

" _Aubrey, if I knew it would all lead to tonight, I would have risked telling you sooner," Stacie said sincerely before chastising herself. "But either way I shouldn't have had to rely on Chloe to reassure you Residual Heat was taking care of your interests._ I'm _your manager, that should have been my job. But I was too distracted trying to prove myself to you—no, I'm not trying to blame you," she added quickly in response to Aubrey's frown. "I just hadn't realized_ how much _it bothered me."_

" _What do you mean?"_

 _With a reluctant sigh, Stacie continued to explain. "You weren't completely off the mark when you accused me of riding on other people's successes. As much as I tried to leave that part of me—leave_ Ana _—behind in Barden, it was just too easy to go back to once I got to LA. When I started out, working here was too hard." She looked down at her high-heeled feet in shame. "You know how I got the Trebles signed? You can probably guess. I 'charmed' my then-boss into agreeing to co-sign their contract."_

 _Aubrey felt an odd emotion wash over her and she hoped that Stacie's confession wasn't a euphemism. The Stacie she had known was every high school boy's dream; it was unpleasant, but not difficult, to imagine what grown men would think of her._

" _But then I went back to Barden," Stacie said, her tone brightening, "on a gut feeling that the buzz about this new girl group was worth checking out. And so I met you again." She smirked. "You were as stubborn as you were in high school but somehow that was exactly what gave me the courage to try to be more than just a pretty face. You reminded me that_ that _was what I set out to do when I left town in the first place, back when I was naïve and didn't care how difficult it might be... Do you remember the disaster in Atlanta?"_

" _How could I forget?" Aubrey said dryly. She had prayed day and night that news of it wouldn't reach Barden and her parents._

" _Well, that was probably_ my _fault, too, because for once I tried not doing the easy thing." Then Stacie shook her head. "But even if I did, people still saw me for what I_ looked _like. Nevertheless, I regretted nothing about that night because I saw how determined you were to make it past that and do better on your next show."_

 _Aubrey softened her stance, pleased to hear that Stacie at least acknowledged that she wouldn't back down so easily._

" _I think that was when I realized that I really wanted to see you succeed," said Stacie. "You all worked so hard for it and were so talented. It was a refreshing change from what I saw in the mirror. But somewhere along the way—and this is something I wish I'd shared with you earlier—you realize that you have to compromise to get what you want._

" _I wanted you to succeed," she repeated, this time with a caveat. "But to get you there, I_ had _to bring out the old me. I_ had _to charm other people, make deals, and ask favors to get the Bellas this far. I kept it from you because Chloe said you'd hate it, but it still happened. Not to blow my own horn but '_ That Thing You Do's' _rapid rise in the charts was not all thanks to luck, you know. I had to talk it up to a lot of people."_

 _Aubrey bit the inside of her cheek to remind herself, once again, of Jesse's words. Hard work and talent weren't always enough. But Stacie noticed and maybe even expected Aubrey's reaction, and shook her head._

" _What I'm trying to say is, working hard is admirable. I know that. But when you're at a point where everyone around you has worked just as hard, or has more resources than you have, working_ smart _is sometimes the better option. I was wrong to mislead you with your contract, but I did what I was best at, and what I_ thought _was best for the Bellas, to get you as far as I could."_

 _Aubrey thought back to her parting words with Emily and Fat Amy. When it came to 'what was best for the Bellas,' it turned out that Stacie and Aubrey were of similar and incorrect mindsets: that it was solely up to them to decide. "You and I both," she muttered. "And look where that's brought us."_

" _I'm sure if you just talk to them—" Stacie began sympathetically._

" _Would_ you _listen to what I have to say, if you were Chloe?"_

" _You listened to what_ I _had to say," Stacie pointed out but Aubrey shook her head._

" _I don't have an explanation, some ulterior motive, in my back pocket, Stacie. What I said to her I said because it was how I felt. Besides, none of this even matters," Aubrey suddenly added, raising her voice._

 _Stacie noted the obvious change in topic, but waited to hear more._

" _Did you really think I was just going to let you off the hook for jerking us around like that?"_

" _But I just explained—"_

" _That doesn't change the fact that our studio time tomorrow is meant for us to record songs that are not ours." Aubrey crossed her arms. "So I'm telling you this now: unless you can guarantee that that isn't going to happen, I'm not going to be there."_

 _Stacie waved toward the door. "That was what I was going to talk to Mr. Siler about! I didn't think I'd run into you and have to prematurely reveal my plan."_

" _And you are_ sure _you can convince him?"_

" _The numbers add up on the business side of it," Stacie assured her confidently. "Even if, God forbid, your album turns out to be lackluster—I_ said _God forbid!" she defended quickly when Aubrey glared at her again. "It would still give the company plenty of publicity that would be enough to drive album sales above average. He should have no reason not to agree."_

" _But if he does?" challenged Aubrey. "What then?"_

 _Stacie threw up her hands. "Well, then why don't_ you _try talking to him?" she suggested, though Aubrey could tell it was just to please her. Stacie seemed stubbornly confident that her plan would work. "After all, he said he…" Stacie paused, a light crease forming between her brows. "_ He _approached_ you _tonight? Not the other way around?"_

" _Neither of us had a choice. It was a hallway."_

" _But_ he _talked to_ you _—he started the conversation? You didn't start it with an apology or something?"_

 _Aubrey frowned in confusion. "I didn't. Why?"_

" _It's just unusual," Stacie said thoughtfully. "He doesn't usually go out of his way to talk to artists—I'm sure you got that impression the first time you met him."_

" _Well, he said it was enough to take me seriously," recalled Aubrey._

" _That's good…"_

 _Aubrey detected a hint of jealousy mixed in with Stacie's thoughtful tone, so she offered helpfully, "You know he calls you 'Stephie' as a joke, right? He does it so that you'd work harder."_

 _Stacie looked up in surprise at Aubrey's saying something vaguely nice to her. "Oh, I knew that."_

" _Then why…?"_

 _Suddenly, the cogs working silently at the back of Aubrey's mind clicked into place and Stacie's fixation on her friendly brush with the label president suddenly shed light on an opportunity she never would have thought possible, much less considered taking. It was extremely risky but, in the grand scheme of things, perhaps important and needed to be done._

 _Aubrey kept her eyes on Stacie's as she steadily came to her own realization, and it seemed that they were on the same track to arriving at it. Stacie raised an eyebrow at her skeptically, as though to wordlessly ask, "Are you sure?"_

" _It's what I would do anyway, if your plan failed," said Aubrey, reading her expression perfectly, and Stacie found that easy to believe. "It's go big, or go home. And, believe me, I am_ not _going home."_

* * *

They clinked their glasses and drank deeply, the stress of pulling off the last sixteen hours finally registering in their bodies and minds. When Aubrey lay her glass down on the coaster she licked her lips dry and shook her head.

"It's not 'the Bellas' anymore though."

Stacie didn't say anything, but traced the rim of her glass with a delicate finger. She hadn't been pretending earlier when she was frantically trying to gather all the Bellas at the studio, and was genuinely surprised not to see Fat Amy present and to learn that Emily was blissfully spending her day with Benji at Disneyland.

"Is that going to be a problem?" Aubrey asked her with a hint of worry.

"Not as much as you'd think," Stacie admitted reluctantly; she didn't want Aubrey getting any ideas that it was okay. "The Trebles actually had a different bassist before Benji, but he went off to join the Marines. Your core fans will be bummed but it won't hurt sales." She paused before saying, "You can still keep the band together for the recording, you know."

Aubrey sighed. "I have a feeling they won't want to."

"Emily is a sweetheart," Stacie said encouragingly. "She'll do it for the band and she'll probably even convince the others to stay, too. It'll be like her farewell celebration before she goes back to Barden."

Aubrey considered it. That certainly did sound like something Emily would do, and Aubrey did enjoy the thought of _celebrating_ the end of the summer and the inevitable departure, instead of marking it as some sort of doomsday. But Stacie either overestimated Emily's infectious enthusiasm, or underestimated how easily repaired the bridges between Aubrey and Chloe were.

"And once the contract is finalized this afternoon, we can work on changing Fat Amy's status—though hopefully she returns from wherever she is," continued Stacie. "And then there's Beca."

Aubrey turned to her expectantly, interested to hear how she planned to salvage that piece of the group. "Yeah?"

"Well, if there's no Chloe, there's no Beca. So…" Stacie shrugged, "maybe you should talk to Chloe?"

Aubrey shook her head, disappointed though not altogether surprised that Stacie hadn't come up with something better. "Even if she forgives me, Chloe still needs to go home—"

"And that's where you're wrong," interjected Stacie. "If it bothers you so much that she lives off my paycheck, I'll find her a real job at the label."

"You're not getting it," Aubrey said firmly. "She _needs_ to go home. This isn't about finding a place for her here. Chloe still has some growing up to do, and it's better and safer for her to do it at Barden than on the other side of the country."

"But she'll have us here. She'll have Beca—"

"Are you delusional?" scoffed Aubrey. "They can't even tell each other how they feel and Beca just _flipped out_ when things between Chloe and her got difficult! No," she shook her head, "they're _both_ better off taking some time apart to grow up."

Stacie narrowed her eyes at her. "For someone who writes pretty good songs about love, you don't know how to handle it when it's right in front of you. But lucky for the rest of us, I took matters into my own hands—"

"Stacie!"

"We admitted it ourselves last night—we only do what's best for the Bellas, right? Beca and Chloe are still Bellas so I'm doing what _I_ can to help them."

"I don't like this side of you," deadpanned Aubrey. "Go back to wanting my approval. And stop trying to do what's best for them! Haven't we already proven it only makes things worse?"

Stacie brushed her comment aside. "Last one, promise. All I did was set up the perfect opportunity for them to talk. I called and left Chloe a message at my apartment telling her that Beca was at the studio waiting for her—right after I reminded Beca how _special_ Chloe is to the group," she added with a pointed look at Aubrey, as though to tell her the same.

"You're not going to get me to change my mind," she said firmly. "And you're not doing Chloe any favors by convincing her to stay."

Stacie rolled her eyes at Aubrey's true-to-form stubbornness and picked up her refilled drink with an air of defiance. "Then I guess we'll just have to agree to disagree."

"It's worked for us so far," responded Aubrey, bringing her own drink to her lips. Stacie gave her a sidelong glance and smirked.

So it has.

* * *

 _Before fully exiting the empty lunchroom and shortly after they had agreed on their borderline-suicide mission, Aubrey turned back and looked at Stacie—_ really _looked at her, not in distrust as she had been doing all summer, but with clear eyes and a clearer head. Stacie had collapsed into the seat she vacated with her neck curled back, breathing a deep sigh of relief over things working out more or less the way she had hoped._

 _It was an almost absurd process of thinking, Aubrey judged of Stacie's actions over the past two months. Absurd, but executed almost flawlessly, right down to a T. It could have gone horribly wrong and ruined Stacie's career in a heartbeat while keeping theirs relatively unaffected but, with unrelenting determination, she pulled off a miracle—all in the name of doing what was best for the Bellas._

 _On some other day, in some better light, Aubrey might have found it impressive. Tonight, however, she was satisfied with feeling reassured._

" _You're quite obsessive yourself, you know that?" she said, causing Stacie to straighten up and look her way. After a brief pause, Aubrey concluded, "But you've got your own way, and I've got mine. I suppose we have a lot to learn from each other. I look forward to that."_

 _Aubrey was just out earshot when Stacie let out a breathy chuckle, halfway between triumphant and relieved, for it seemed she had finally earned Aubrey's trust—ironically, by embracing everything Aubrey accused her of being._

* * *

 **Response to Reviews:**

 **jalex1** (Nov. 28) - Aubrey wasn't the only one who noticed (Emily and Stacie have more than hinted that they knew) but since she's the one who gets a special inside-look chapter, it may have seemed that way haha.

 **Guest reader** (Nov. 28) - I hope so, too. Fingers crossed!

 **Big Fan** (Nov. 28) - I KNOW. I'M SORRY. But we're one chapter closer! Thanks, I'm glad you felt a bit enlightened seeing Aubrey's side and hopefully this chapter sustains that. Although I don't think it answers your wish for Aubrey to make amends haha. I HOPE I CAN MAKE IT WORTH THE WAIT!

 **Reader** (Nov. 28) - Haha! When I first saw your review I truly wanted to deliver. I appreciate your enthusiasm and faith in my writing prowess but alas I got distracted. And before you ask – no, I cannot possibly update tomorrow haha.

 **RJRMovieFan** (Nov. 29) - Thanks for the review! We are all capable of great evil when the right (or wrong) conditions are met; all I can hope for is that, as the writer, I lay out those conditions sufficiently. I actually intended her parents to have only one 'on-screen' moment to emphasize the concept of 'insignificance' in that scene – not only was Aubrey's departure insignificant to her parents, later, as a result, letters from them were insignificant _to_ _her_. Also the entire scene was stiff, dull, and, well, _bland_ because that's how Aubrey sees them, too.

 _\- As for Chloe stepping in, I knew I would be facing it eventually so I never made it clear what Chloe was really passionate about. Chloe herself never really expressed a love for making music (she enjoys writing songs, but her desire to make it a career is not on the same level as Beca's or Aubrey's). Aubrey's chapters let us know that Chloe just wanted that 'perfect future' and, in past chapters, it has been suggested by most Bellas that she (a) did it as an act of rebellion and (b) stayed because she likes feeling like she belongs, and simply because it was a fun thing she started with her best friend in high school – she didn't think it would get this big. With that said, and even supposing she gets her range back, Chloe – in her heart of hearts – is indifferent to replacing Emily. Although, if the fight hadn't happened and the time came naturally (note: they have ~3 weeks left before the actual end of summer) she might have said yes because then she wouldn't have to feel guilty._

Thanks! I amused myself in the fact that in PP, Aubrey was stuck on tradition (and 80's music) while in this one she's trying to break the mold. So I used the common denominator, her stubborn obsessiveness, to pivot in the opposite direction. Unfortunately, I ended up being more dramatic with her character than comedic, but I'm happy enough with how she turned out.

 **Fan** (Nov. 29) - I'm glad you did! I've had that scene planned out in my head for months!

* * *

 **A/N:** So... you'll probably have a lot of questions after that? (Again, read the italicized R2R up above for insight into a scene in Chapter Thirteen.) But at least you now see why I couldn't just put these scenes in between the main ones.

To be honest, I hesitated putting the twist in, but the alternative would have been a boring, Aubrey-is-a-complex-character-who-gets-what-she-wants-despite-being-a-jerk, which is what happened to Jimmy at the end of TTYD. But then Stacie came up to me and assured me that this was better. (Probably because she has a bigger role in this one, ha!) But after all, when I introduced her I said I wanted to round out Aubrey's character. They both illustrate different philosophies about life and work but unlike Chloe, Stacie has more credibility to teach Aubrey to chill. And now they have their future professional careers to look forward to learning from each other (and to see a more humorous side of Aubrey)!

More importantly, I want to clarify that though this is the end of the Aubrey-centric chapters, this is not the end of Aubrey. Nor is it a way for you to agree with her justification. I wanted to show Aubrey's _human_ perspective. Personally, I find it flawed in some places but a lot of people may agree with her methods/beliefs. But hopefully this also shows that Stacie is flawed, and that Beca and Chloe are flawed, too. None of them did the right thing and even though it seems that things are going to be a-OK from now on, they _all_ still have some growing up to do.

Lastly, the expression 'go big or go home' wasn't around 'til the 90's but I wanted it there anyway. Now on to the Final Chapter (and Epilogue, too, if I can write it in time)!


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**A/N:** Terribly sorry for the long delay! I didn't expect the holidays would take as much of my time as it did. This finale is 12,000+ words of closure and what I hope is a worthy ending to an 8-month journey. A heartfelt thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, or fave'd this story! I hope you were entertained. Oh, and happy 2017! Let's make it a good one, okay?

* * *

 **CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

Beca let the weight of the drumstick propel itself into a final twirl before laying it atop the snare drum with defeated sigh. Thirty minutes had passed since Stacie left, as well as an hour of the Bellas' paid studio time, yet there was still no sign of Chloe.

It didn't come as too much of a disappointment for Beca, since she still hadn't figured out what she would say other than that she was deeply sorry for causing last night's fiasco. Stacie's reassuring words to Chloe had emboldened Beca to want to do something similarly helpful for her, but the effect had quickly worn off, unimpeded by the silence of the room and the loudness of her thoughts.

On paper, Beca ought to be furious at Stacie for lying to them, or at Aubrey for choosing this moment, after everything she had put the band through, to quit. It was even reasonable to say that she should be mad at herself for _not_ being the slightest bit angry about any of that.

Because all of it was muted, shoved to the back of her mind, and the only emotion she registered was sorrow over the fact that the friends she had made on a summer that began (begrudgingly) at her father's—the eccentric group of weirdos she grew to actually care about—were going their separate ways.

The bright side was that the sorrow came in a dull stream and not a crashing wave. She wasn't surprised by the end. There was no need for signs of how or why it happened; her intuition was right the moment she stepped foot into the studio that morning and found Emily and Fat Amy missing. Without even knowing that Stacie had lied or that Aubrey would quit over the contract, the girls didn't come to the studio because, collectively, the Bellas knew that something had already broken them apart last night.

A fragile wall in Beca's mind protected her from considering that it all could have been avoided; that she could have joined Aubrey's campaign to get the album finished much earlier, or that she could have asked Chloe about her family instead of glorifying the idea of leaving home and doing things on your own terms.

And when Beca started to think that, other things she wished she could have done with the Bellas began to surface:

She could have suggested collaborating with the Treblemakers, as a special treat for their combined fan-base, instead of adamantly staying out of building relationships between their bands all throughout the tour. She also could have done more to help Jesse soften Aubrey right at the beginning. It might have changed Aubrey's disposition for the better…

They could have taken Emily to Disneyland together, as a farewell and thank you to their youngest and most optimistic band mate. They also could have intervened in Fat Amy's sexual walkabout and made time instead to get to hear stories about her wild and whacky adventures before she came to America. Beca could have even been good friends with Aubrey if she tried; they could have bonded over their shared passion in music.

Beca could have experienced first-hand how bad Chloe really was at driving…

She stopped when her eyes began to sting as her regrets took a more sentimental turn. As she recalled the night they started a riot in Barden, when she first realized she had gotten herself into something special, a part of her wished she hadn't gotten attached so quickly. It seemed so long ago, and they were so much more naïve.

Beca shook her head and looked down at her lap. The truth was, it _wasn't_ that long ago, and the fact that Beca was reminiscing with the heavy heart of knowing it was all over after mere _months_ —instead of looking back at it fondly decades later—was utterly depressing.

* * *

Tired of feeling miserable about their situation, Beca challenged herself to look at the good that had come out of their brief moment in the sun.

No matter what happened to them next, history would always show that, in the summer of 1969, The Barden Bellas held a top ten record in the whole United States of America. That in itself was an achievement to be proud of, let alone their numerous shows to screaming fans across the Midwest _and_ being broadcast on national television.

Beca smiled to herself in amusement, imagining Emily gloating over having infected Beca with her optimism. It called to mind the image of the young, bright-eyed brunette, bursting with excitement at pretty much every accomplishment, big or small, that the Bellas had, and claiming after each one that she would have the best 'How I Spent My Summer Vacation' essay in her entire class when she got back to Barden.

And for once, Beca tried seeing things through her eyes: Emily knew exactly how and when it was going to end for her, but instead of letting that loom over her, she cherished every single moment. Beca, on the other hand, had expected to go much farther than the end of the summer, so she easily lost sight of how far they had already come as she focused on all the could-have's.

They _had_ come far. And, somehow, realizing that gave her a sense of closure.

And so, in honor of all that the Bellas had achieved—and in spite of being alone in her celebration—Beca picked up her sticks. She gave one a couple of twirls out of habit before playing out _That Thing You Do_ 's infamous intro one last time.

* * *

The soft screech of feedback at the end of what had evolved into an improvised jazz solo and the voice that came after it alerted Beca that she wasn't entirely alone in the studio.

"Thank God. For a second there I thought you'd gone crazy just staring into space."

Beca turned in surprise toward the window; apparently one of the audio engineers had returned to the booth without her noticing. She gave him a small wave in acknowledgement.

"You wanna lay it down?" he asked. "It was good."

Beca shook her head. "I was just messing around. I'm with the Barden Bellas, but I don't know if you've heard—"

"We pretty much got the picture when that snippy blonde band mate of yours stormed past us—oh, hey, Del!"

Beca froze and leaned as far back as her seat allowed. The door leading to the engineer's room blocked her view, but she sensed that the one and only Del Paxton had entered from the other side. She was proved right when the jazz legend came further into the room to shake the engineer's hand before letting himself into the studio.

"Hey, little lady," he greeted. "It's Beca—right?"

Beca nodded, feeling her neck and cheeks get uncomfortably warm. She was in a room full of instruments with Del Paxton—there were a million ways she could screw up living her musical fantasy.

"You really are good," Del said approvingly.

"Psh-aw!" Beca exclaimed in her awkward attempt at humility. "Who's to say what's good, right?—Well, I mean, _you_ can, 'cause _you're_ great! I'm just…" She trailed off and released the breath she had been holding as Del moved toward the piano.

"Let's jam together."

Beca's eyes almost popped out of their sockets. She was on the verge of asking him if he'd hit his head but then realized that, even if he had, she wouldn't want to miss the bizarre opportunity. So she immediately planted herself down on the stool and grabbed her sticks.

"Play that thing you did again," Del said to Beca before calling out to the engineer. "Hey, Ernie, roll tape on this."

Any other musician might have fumbled at getting to jam with a musical legend, but Beca was delighted to discover that it only brought her skills to an entirely new level. It also helped that Del was just as skilled with keys as he was with sticks, letting Beca take charge of the accompaniment. They played a beautiful, upbeat jazz number and all the while Beca couldn't help the goofy look on her face, her troubles long since evaporated, as she jammed with her idol.

Perhaps it was a connection they made through the music they'd just spontaneously recorded that prompted Del to ask, after the last note faded and they were cleared to talk, how things with the Bellas were doing.

Beca's shoulders sagged a little and she gave him a grim smile. "Turns out you were right," she said. "Our band had come... and now will go." In response to his sympathetic but curious look she added, "Stuff with the label drove us apart."

"Ah, the label." Del bobbed his head with the experience of a man who has had years of experience dealing with the industry. "I guess I should have warned you about that, too."

Beca merely shrugged. "The label stuff was just the nail in the coffin; we were probably on the way down anyway."

"But what about the most important thing? What about the heart?"

It didn't take long for Beca to know where her heart was… and how she was feeling.

"Broken."

Del rested his hands on his lap and shook his head. "I am sorry to hear that. But you know," he rose from the piano and gestured between them, "some of the best music comes from moments in our lives when we _feel_ the most broken."

Beca appreciated Del's attempt to cheer her up, but it only reminded her that she had just lost her dream. She was out of a band and out of a record deal. She wasn't going to be able to _make_ music out of this brokenness—at least, not as a professionally paid musician. She supposed she was back to square one on that front.

"Hey." Del noticed Beca's continued somberness and snapped his fingers. "I have an idea. I was recording down the hall with Walker, Johnson, and Falcon—you know, the old gang—when I heard you and had to stop by. How about I bring them over here instead?"

Beca nearly fell off her stool. "Can—can they jam with us, too?"

Del chuckled at her eagerness and put a hand over his chest. "Them, too? And here I thought I was special."

"No! I mean, yes! Of course you are—"

"Relax, kid, I was just messin'. I'm sure they'd be happy to oblige a talent such as yourself."

And they did.

For the remainder of the Bellas' studio time, Beca had the pleasure of playing with some of the greatest jazz musicians in her lifetime. It was almost sinfully self-indulgent, and she worried that a novice like herself didn't deserve it, but luckily "the old gang" were among the chillest people she'd ever met, taking long breaks in between songs and filling them with stories of their many years making music.

Beca actually found it very easy to build a rapport with them. She surprised them by knowing almost as much about jazz as they did, and she was able to ask insightful questions that led to even more interesting, never before heard stories about life as a musician. Beca was also relieved to hear that they each had their share of troubles with the business side of things and, after recounting her own, she was once again advised to just keep following the music.

"Of course, you gotta find a way to keep the bills paid, too," added the famous Five-Hand Johnson with a chuckle. "You never appreciate the value of a roof over your head until the label's no longer payin' for it."

Beca suddenly pulled back the sleeve of her turtleneck sweater to check the time on her wristwatch. "Oh, man, I forgot about the hotel!" She thanked each of them in a regretful hurry and explained on her way to the door that the Bellas had to check out of their hotel by noon.

But as she was walking briskly down the hallway toward the building's exit, a door on her left swung open and Ernie, the recording engineer, burst out with his arm outstretched to stop her.

"Hey! Sorry, I know you're in a hurry, but that was amazing in there!" he said excitedly, jerking his thumb toward the studio. "You got the guys to talk so much between the songs—I never even stopped recording!"

"Thanks—?" Beca motioned him to quickly get to the point.

"I think you've got a knack for this and you obviously know your jazz," appraised Ernie. "A buddy of mine runs a local radio station—he's been looking for someone like you to take the six to midnight slot, seven nights a week, to go on about jazz and stuff. It's yours if you want it."

"I—what?" Beca pulled her focus away from finding a cab and back to the man in front of her to process what was happening.

"And the recording back there? Priceless! If you could get your manager—she's the smokin' hot brunette, right?—to get her label to sign off on it, you'd be set! Well, not for life but at least you won't go hungry living on the streets or something—I mean, no offense, but you _did_ just get fired," he added with an apologetic grimace.

Beca frowned. "Her name is Stacie and go back a step—did you just offer me a _job_?"

"Well, it's not mine to offer but, trust me, you're perfect for it."

Beca hesitated; that she couldn't immediately consider the offer was a sign that, deep down, she had still not fully accepted that Bellas were no longer going to be a thing. But now the idea of having a job that paid money seemed to knock reality into her.

The real world didn't wait for anyone to come to grips with it; real life went on and Beca had to do something about it if she were to survive. She couldn't live off the residuals of ' _That Thing You Do_ ' forever.

But... she had also fallen for a "trust me" once upon a time and it didn't work out exactly as planned. "Can I think about it?" she said, hoping her distrust came off as urgency to get to her hotel.

"Yeah, of course!" Ernie searched his pockets. "Here's my card. You can tell, um, Stacie to give me a call. And you can call me, too, if you're interested in the radio show. I'll make sure Rick gets the message."

Beca thanked him and continued her marathon to the exit. She had finally made it to the lobby when, to her irritation, the receptionist called her attention as she passed the front desk.

"Excuse me, Beca Mitchell?"

"Yes?" Beca responded through gritted teeth as she watched a perfectly vacant taxi drive past. "What is it?"

"A woman named Gail called from your hotel about an hour ago but the recording light was on for a while and I didn't want to interrupt. She says you better hurry back—"

" _That's what I was doing before you stopped me!_ "

* * *

 _A little over an hour earlier…_

Chloe walked up to the Avalon Hotel's entrance, passing the familiar doorman and bellhop and smiling politely when they tipped their hats to her. She crossed the empty lobby in a few brisk but nervous steps and gave the concierge bell a quick tap.

"Chloe!"

Chloe jumped in surprise when Gail popped up from underneath the desk with a flourish. Whatever she was doing there, Chloe hadn't the mind to ask. "Hi, Gail."

"Why aren't you at the studio with the rest of the girls?"

"Um, I forgot something in my room," she lied, unable to stop herself from glancing down at her feet. "And I also forgot to ask for the room key so…"

"Say no more, my dear. C'mon, I'll help you up."

"No! I mean—it's fine, I wouldn't want to bother you," Chloe said hurriedly. "I can do it myself. I just need to borrow the spare key."

Gail cocked her head curiously but lacked the will to deny a guest any request, so she handed over the key to the Bellas' rooms.

The lingering scent of Fat Amy's sugary sweet perfume wafted into Chloe's nostrils the moment she opened the door to Room 242 moments later. They had only been in LA for a few days, but Chloe still took a while to gather all of her possessions around the room; she had developed a habit, throughout the tour, of instructing housekeeping to keep their things in her orchestrated disarray to create a homier feel in their hotel rooms.

Looking back, Chloe realized that doing so might have fueled the lie to go on longer.

When the last of her clothes had been folded and packed (her suitcase felt much heavier with all the new clothes they got while on tour) she scanned the room for anything she had missed. As she approached the bedside table to check its drawer, she noticed a soft light-brown paw peeking out from beyond the edge of the bed.

"Christopher!" She reached across the mattress and pulled him out. "I can't believe I almost forgot you..."

Chloe plucked away a loose strand of thread from the bear's cotton jacket and smiled down at the treasured toy. She ran her thumb across his dry, clumpy patch of fur and over the stump where his eye once was, feeling the effects of years of her love and (sometimes overly enthusiastic) affection.

Christopher was meant to be _her_ reminder of home. But, like her habit of messing up hotel rooms, he only served to keep her from looking at the truth. Her childhood possession had been a reminder of her _childishness_ , not her home. She hid her fears of the great big world inside a toy whose only accomplishment was protecting her from nightmares.

But she didn't need Christopher now; she wasn't a child anymore, as she was so determined to prove to her father the night she left.

* * *

" _I don't understand," her mother frowned. "So… you all_ won't _be back at the end of the summer? I thought Emily was returning for school? Why can't Chloe do that, too?"_

 _Stacie looked over her shoulder at Chloe, wearing a helpless expression. She had been mostly silent while Stacie explained the situation to her parents. Using her so-called golden tongue, Stacie had shown that the Bellas were being given a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to make their music heard by the entire country—and maybe the whole world—for generations to come. But the conversation had now come around to Chloe's specific involvement and, on that, Stacie could no longer speak on her behalf._

 _Chloe knew that being silent was not helping her case, but the rate at which her parents' expressions changed from mildly proud to sternly disapproving had left her literally speechless._

" _And you're also saying you have vocal nodules?" her brother chimed in from where he was leaning against the doorframe, an identical frown making him the spitting image of his mother. "But you haven't had it checked out?"_

" _If she can't sing, then why does she still have to go?" her father asked, cutting off Stacie's response. "That's what makes no sense to me. She's about to enter her senior year of college, what future does she have being a—a_ wardrobe manager _? For a_ rock band _?"_

" _Charles, your daughter is in the room. You can address her directly," reprimanded Chloe's mother, but Mr. Beale didn't soften his stance nor his tone._

" _It's a great opportunity," Chloe finally said meekly. Stacie looked at her pleadingly to speak up, so she added a touch louder, "I want to do it."_

" _You don't sound convinced," her brother pointed out noncommittally and Chloe looked at him._

 _He wasn't angry or disappointed, just confused. He had always supported Chloe and her music—even taking pride in the fact that it was his guitar she had first picked up_ _—b_ _ut what Chloe was saying now made no sense to him… Unless he had been misreading the reason Chloe continued with her band all this time._

" _Did it ever occur to you that it's because of all of you?" said Chloe, surprising everyone with her sudden conviction. But she figured that if not now, then when? "How am I supposed to know what I really want if all I've ever been told growing up is that—that I'm destined to live up to the 'Beale' name? I don't know what I really want because you've always_ dictated _what I want."_

" _Chloe, we never dictated anything," her mother said, patiently but firmly. "Your father and I only wanted what's best—"_

" _But isn't what's best for me my choice, too, Mom?" Chloe said indignantly. "Why wasn't I given the freedom to choose—"_

" _Freedom?" Her father's face grew stern. "You think you didn't have any freedom? Look around you, Chloe! Look at the life you have—the life your mother and I worked tirelessly to provide you and your brother with—and tell me you don't have freedom."_

 _Chloe lowered her head, guilt and shame flooding her face. She knew that, and nothing hurt her more than to think her parents believed she didn't. But was that all she was ever going to be? A forever-grateful daughter doomed to be blessed with not having to wipe the sweat off her brow?_

" _I knew all that rock music you've been playing would induce you to rebel."_

" _R-rebel?" Chloe repeated, her conviction quickly catching up to, and overtaking, her guilt. She was grateful for everything her parents had done for her, but that didn't mean they had the right to control her life. "I… I try to express myself—my_ true _self—and you think I'm_ rebelling _?_ _Can't you see that's why I need to leave? You won't admit it, but I know you have this perfect version of me in your head that I have to fit into!" She took a breath. "I need to find out who I am outside of this family, I need to live in the real world—!"_

" _Life is not like one of your fairytales, Chloe, the 'real world' is not an adventure to be sought after," her father responded gruffly. "Out there, you are nothing more than a child and_ no one _will help you. And…" Her father's eyes hardened and her mother sat up in her chair, her eyes flashing worriedly. "And if you are so determined to get a taste of it then go ahead. Walk out that door. Just don't expect to come back."_

* * *

When she did leave, not expecting to come back to Barden, Chloe was determined to prove that she wasn't a child; that she could survive out in the 'real world' and take in all its hardships. She only now realized that bringing Christopher along undermined that determination. She thought that, by reminding her of her own innocent youth, Christopher would keep her happy and optimistic, ignoring her father's bleak words and seeing the real world as an innocent would see it.

But that meant never actually _seeing_ the world for what it realistically was. It meant not seeing her own immaturity the night she left. It meant not foreseeing Stacie's favor as a handout that would upset Aubrey and the delicate balance of their already fragile friendship. It meant enjoying the moment, chasing the high of falling in love in the summertime, and not worrying about the future.

Chloe let out a small sigh. Her foray into adulthood had been a categorical failure; her first real job wasn't deserved—though she had fooled herself into thinking it was legitimate, which only proved how naïve she really was. So instead of filling her summer with the trials and hardships she had glorified in her mind as the mark of maturity, she had filled it with smooth sailing and happy memories.

Memories of road trips across states and of carnival fair rides, of checking the weekly Billboard magazine to chart their hit song and celebrating at a downtown club… Memories of chasing each other around hotel rooms, and of pretend bear-kisses she wished she could have given herself.

Chloe sat Christopher on the bed, nestled between the two large pillows. She decided that he was better off staying here, keeping those memories intact, at least for a little while.

* * *

 **\- INTERMISSION -**

* * *

Beca paid the driver and stepped out of the cab to see Gail scurrying over to her as fast as her high heels permitted. "What took you so long?" the blonde shrilled. "I left you a message an hour ago!"

"I know, I'm sorry! I'll go and get packing now—"

"What are you talking about? Why is everyone _packing_ all of a sudden?"

Beca did a double take on her way inside. "Didn't they tell you? Aubrey quit, the Bellas are over; the label is kicking us out of the hotel."

" _What?_ No one but I can kick guests out of my hotel!" Gail said fiercely.

Beca shrugged and said, "Either way, we don't have a choice," before continuing past Gail. Then she paused and turned back with a curious frown. "If you didn't know we were being kicked out, why did you leave me a message asking me to hurry back?"

"Over an _hour_ ago," Gail added with her hands on her hips. "I told the receptionist to tell you _at once_ that Chloe's _leaving_! She planned to make a quick getaway while you were all at the studio."

Beca felt her heart sink. "Why would she—?"

 _Leave? Isn't that obvious?_

"How did…?"

 _Does it matter?_

"She was going to leave without saying goodbye?" Beca finished pathetically.

" _Goodbye_?" Gail snorted disapprovingly at her. "That girl deserves more than a goodbye from you."

Beca resisted rolling her eyes at the sassy blonde. "Well, how long ago did she leave? Do you think I can catch up—?"

"Lucky for you, I sensed that something wasn't right, so I took her bags and sent her off to the restaurant, and I ordered her a turkey club, bacon crisp, a side of baked beans—"

"Oh, no, she _hates_ beans."

"Chloe's taste is not the point! The point _is_ ," Gail rolled her eyes dramatically, "it's a dish that takes notoriously long to make. And since Chloe is too polite to deny someone being nice to her…?"

Gail ended the sentence on a pedagogic up-tone, which she held until Beca realized what she was implying.

"Chloe's still in there?"

Beca immediately turned toward the restaurant, meaning to take a step, but once again she was frozen by the realization that she had nothing prepared to say—other than sorry and, apparently, goodbye…

"Yes, she's in there! _Alone_. Now go fix that." With a shove, Gail gave Beca the momentum she needed to move forward.

* * *

It took a while before Beca spotted Chloe sitting at the counter at the very back of the restaurant, near the kitchens and away from the front windows (probably Gail's idea, to discourage her from taking flight). She was dully picking at the food on her plate and Beca couldn't resist chuckling at the minor dilemma she must be having on whether she should eat the disgusting beans or leave them untouched and risk offending the cook.

Beca also realized, as she slowly walked toward Chloe, that it their first encounter in almost eighteen hours, the longest they had gone without seeing each other all summer. It seemed laughably short but seeing Chloe again nonetheless felt like discovering a new color—everything else in the background suddenly seemed dull and uninteresting. Although, if Beca were being honest with herself, it felt like that most times she looked at Chloe. (And to think she ever questioned how she got so distracted.)

Unfortunately, there was no way to approach Chloe without being seen, which led to an awkward exchange of guilty looks followed by an awkward walk to close the gap between them.

After her initial surprise, Chloe looked both sheepish and annoyed that she had stayed in the restaurant too long that she got caught.

"You didn't think you could leave without saying goodbye, did you?" said Beca, occupying the stool beside her. Her tone was joking but only to mask the storm of feelings ripping apart her insides.

"It was the perfect plan," Chloe responded with a faint smile. "You were all at the studio. I thought I could sneak in and leave without anyone seeing me."

"Ah, well… your plan didn't account for the fact that Stacie lied to us," Beca said grimly. "Apparently, we're not making our own songs. Just a bunch of covers for a tribute album."

Chloe looked shocked at first, but then she frowned thoughtfully. "Stacie left me a message a couple of hours ago telling me to go to the studio … I didn't think it was for this."

"Not that I'm defending Stacie or anything but before Aubrey quit—and Aubrey _did_ quit," Beca added in response to Chloe's astonishment. "Before that, Stacie said we were guaranteed a second album after we recorded what Residual Heat wanted us to sing. But I guess that was too much to ask of Aubrey. And it's not like we'd do it without her."

Chloe gave a small, thoughtful nod. After everything Aubrey had been through, Chloe expected nothing less from her uncompromising friend. "But Emily? Fat Amy? They didn't try to stop her?"

"Emily's gone to Disneyland with Benji," Beca revealed with amusement. "And none of us has any idea where Fat Amy went. But even if they were there, I don't think they could have stopped Aubrey. She was _mad_. She threw stuff at Stacie and everything."

"Huh." Chloe rested her elbows on the counter dejectedly. "So it's really over?"

Beca sighed heavily and nodded. "Looks like it."

"I can't believe it…" After a pause, Chloe asked, "What are you going to do?"

Beca noticed that Chloe purposely avoided her eyes when she spoke, which signaled to her that they had finally come to the end. The goodbye.

* * *

Beca had spent the entire cab ride back to the hotel thinking about the job offer and the 'amazing' recording she had made with Del and the others. Ernie's business card had been lodged between her fingers ever since he handed it to her, and she was currently fingering its sharp corners as she thought of the best way to answer Chloe's question.

When she left Barden, Beca had boldly claimed to her father that living on the road as a musician would teach her the discipline and responsibility that he, in turn, believed only a college experience could drill into her. But now that their tour was all over, what proof did Beca have that she possessed, or even developed, those qualities?

Aubrey had been absolutely right about Beca's supposed role in the Bellas at the beginning: she was the newest member—the outsider—which meant that she was supposed to be the _least_ likely to fall for sentimentality. Even more poignant was the fact that she was the _drummer_ and, as Stacie had told her after their disastrous performance in Atlanta, her job was to be the backbone and timekeeper; she was supposed to keep the band from falling apart.

So how could she say that she had grown, when she allowed that to happen anyway?

It was that failure that made Beca's mind up about what she was going to do.

"I got a job," she announced half-heartedly and held up the card for Chloe to see. "Or at least, an offer for a job working the late shift at a radio station."

She didn't want to go into too much detail about the job or the recording with Del; it felt weird to be touting her own fortune so soon after the tragedy of the Bellas getting fired.

"I don't think it pays much," she continued distractedly, choosing not to look at Chloe's sincere but joyless smile. "But at least I get to stay here…"

Chloe nodded and looked down at her half-empty plate. "Cool. So… you're going to be a permanent west coaster, then."

"Yeah…"

Beca didn't want to ask the reciprocal question she knew she should, because she already knew the answer. She just didn't want to hear it be said out loud, as if somehow that shattered the illusion that this conversation wasn't what it really was.

But that was how the _old_ Beca would have done things, delaying confrontation until a time that best suited her. She learned her lesson now.

"So… what are _you_ going to do?"

Chloe gently nudged her plate forward with a finger. She had finally committed to her decision.

"I'm gonna go back to Barden," she said. When Beca stirred slightly she added, "Stacie told me you found out about... Well, anyway, I figured I'd just beg for forgiveness and promise never to run away again." She then gave a small shrug and smiled at Beca humorlessly. "It'll be humiliating, and they might not even take me back, but who knows? Maybe Emily can take me in... Either way, Barden is always going to be my home. I can start again—I just… I need to get my life together first, you know? And Barden is all I've ever known."

Beca nodded automatically. She told herself not to be affected by it; after all, it was exactly what she expected, even hoped, to hear. Chloe wanted to move forward and if she believed that the best thing for her was to return to Barden and own up to her mistakes, then Beca couldn't possibly know better to stop her.

So she nodded again. "I hope things work out."

Beca didn't need to face Chloe to know how disappointing her response was, when all this time she had been the one insisting that Chloe belonged with the Bellas. But maybe that was Beca's mistake. The Bellas had fallen apart now, so by her own logic Chloe was in her right to decide where she wanted to go next.

Maybe Beca should have insisted the Chloe belonged with _her_.

But she hadn't, and she considered herself lucky for it because no matter how disappointing her acceptance of Chloe's departure was, it was the right thing to do. No matter how much Beca wanted Chloe to stay with her, there was nothing worth staying for.

And no matter how viciously it tore her heart apart to feel Chloe turn away and try to hide her disappointment, it would be nothing compared to the pain of knowing Chloe would be throwing her future away if she stayed.

* * *

They sat in silence for a while, giving each other the courtesy of not addressing the tears they both shed or the dark and heavy air that seemed to surround their secluded corner of the restaurant. They allowed themselves to grieve, to calm down, and, in their own ways, get closure… or some semblance of it.

* * *

"Beca… can I ask you a question?"

Beca turned and saw Chloe looking at her intently. "Shoot," she obliged, her voice hoarse.

"Was it always your dream to be a musician?"

Beca let her eyes fall out of focus as she traced her memories backward, from joining the Bellas, to leaving Portland, and all the way back to the beginning her relationship with music: reading about jazz for her 9th grade music class. It was hard to imagine that it wasn't that long ago—three years. The idea of making music for a living had consumed her ever since, but there had to be something that came before that, right?

"I'm not sure… So no, I guess," she answered. "I can pinpoint _when_ I wanted to be a musician but I can't think of anything I really wanted to be before that. All I can remember is _not_ wanting to be a teacher like my mom, or a nurse like all the girls in school wanted to be. I didn't really think of it as me being different, I just wanted to be… me."

Chloe smiled at her. It was small but genuine and adoring. "You wanted to live your life on your own terms. And here you are."

Beca looked at her again, closely. Her eyes were shining, not just from their goodbye, but with unfiltered pride as well, like they always did whenever Beca looked into them for some kind of support.

And at that moment Beca realized that this was Chloe giving her support for the _last_ time. This was how Chloe wanted to leave her; not with regret or blame for what fell between them, but with her wholehearted support for Beca's decision to let her go.

"Well…" Chloe pushed herself off the stool slowly. "If you ever find yourself in Barden again… stop by and see me."

Beca fought to match the smile Chloe was faking. "Yeah…"

"Here's goodbye." Chloe leaned forward and gave Beca a kiss on the cheek before quickly wrapping her in a tight hug, as though careful not to place too much meaning in the earlier gesture. But the meaning was self-evident to Beca, who had shut her eyes to freeze the moment in memory. A line of burning hot tears slipped through the corner of her eyes.

Then from somewhere close to her ear, Beca felt Chloe shift slightly. "None of this would have happened if you hadn't joined the band," she whispered thickly, her voice breaking. "And I mean that in the _best_ way, Beca… Thank you for the most meaningful summer of my life."

With those words Beca suddenly remembered _what_ she had always wanted to be, even before aspiring to be a musician: she wanted to do something _meaningful_ with her life. Chloe seemed to have remembered it, too, from a conversation they'd had long ago. And by thanking Beca for a meaningful summer, Chloe did what she could to make her feel like she had achieved that.

It was Chloe's subtle acts of caring that Beca couldn't bear to think she'd never get to feel again. She clutched the back of Chloe's shirt in an insuppressible desire to stop her from pulling away, but inevitably buried that impulse and let her go.

* * *

"Hey," Chloe said with a slightly cheeky smile, as though she suddenly remembered an amusing thought. "I'll hold you to that, okay? You visiting me in Barden I mean."

Beca nodded fiercely. It was a promise.

"Don't make me worry that you won't show up, okay?"

And before she fully turned her back on Beca after her parting words, Chloe threw her one last wink. A smile tugged at the corner of Beca's lips at Chloe's clever way of bookending their adventure together: in joy rather than sorrow—with the wink that started it all, the wink that began their journey toward the dreams.

A journey that was heartbreakingly cut short.

But, as she watched Chloe moving farther and farther away, Beca suddenly made one more crucial realization:

 _This_ was the moment—not earlier at the studio with Del, nor watching Aubrey walk out, nor in the cab contemplating starting a new job that didn't involve making music for a living. The Bellas' break-up and their firing from Residual Heat… that _wasn't_ the moment her dreams ended.

 _This_ was the moment. Only now, watching Chloe walk away from her for very possibly the last time, did Beca truly feel her dreams slipping away from her grasp.

Because it was then that she realized she didn't have to be in a rock band, be different, or change the status of women in music to achieve her dreams. She didn't even need to _make music_ to make her life... meaningful.

Chloe proved that.

Far beyond having a top ten record, over the past summer Beca was more fulfilled in simply _being_ with Chloe, in taking care of her when she was sick or in cheering her up when she was upset, and, most importantly, in being someone _she_ felt the same way about.

Chloe was the future she always wanted, the future she would dream about, and long for, for the rest of her life.

* * *

Unfortunately, that crucial realization didn't mean Beca was going to do anything about it.

Gripping the edge of her stool tightly, Beca reminded herself that Chloe's situation was delicate, that it wouldn't be right for her to condemn Chloe to jumping off a plane, parachute-less, just to be with her. Chloe was much better off "getting her life together" in Barden, where she wouldn't have to worry about keeping the bills paid while trying to get a career off the ground, or any other trial and hardship of being not quite an adult in a big, unfamiliar city full of hundreds, if not thousands, of people just like her—

Beca shook her head roughly as the problems she listed began taking a different direction.

None of those were _Chloe's_ problems. They could have been but the fact was, nobody—not Beca, not Chloe—knew if they even would be. They had no idea what the future would hold but Beca made the decision for the _both_ of them that they shouldn't bother to find out. She avoided confronting the possibility of that life because it was what was best for Chloe… right?

Beca frowned. The only other person who was as staunchly set in her beliefs about what was best for everyone else was… Aubrey. And hadn't they both learned that it was dangerous to assume what was best for all?

* * *

Breaking out of her thoughts, Beca watched as across the restaurant Chloe briefly paused before stepping through the restaurant's exit. She didn't want that hesitation to be the last memory she had of Chloe, lest she regret letting her go even more, so instead Beca focused on the lighthearted wink.

The farewell gesture was Beca's only hope that, though she had made the same decisions Aubrey did about what was 'best' for Chloe, that fact that Chloe did not hate her for it was proof that her actions were more justified.

But were they?

It had become increasingly clearer over the past twenty-four hours that Beca was more similar to Aubrey than she would like to believe. Even though they each had their self-serving beliefs about what, or who, was to credit for the Bellas' success, they both agreed that the music was the underlying key to it.

But neither Beca nor Aubrey ever accounted for how much of their success was possible because they had bothered to take the risk in the first place; to them, everything happened because their music and lyrics were good enough. But taking a _risk_ got each of the Bellas far closer to a career in music than if they had all waited for the perfect moment—Beca waiting to get back to her old band in Portland, Emily waiting to graduate high school, or the rest after college—or the perfect song to start it.

And it was Chloe's cheeky and unexpected wink that first gave Beca the courage to risk changing the tempo at the last minute, creating their hit song. And the success from _that_ risk gave them the opportunity to take another one: signing with Stacie.

If Beca hadn't risked speeding up the tempo, or if they all had turned Stacie away and looked for a more experienced (less risky) promoter (one who would have likely dumped them after the disaster in Atlanta), then they never would have gotten this far.

And now Beca was watching her dream walk away from her, all because she decided—for herself _and_ for Chloe—that this was a risk they finally couldn't afford to take?

* * *

"Miss?" The young man who helped Chloe load her luggage into the taxi had just shut the trunk when he noticed her standing with her hand frozen on the door handle. "You need help with that?"

Chloe blinked back into focus when she felt the bellhop's gloved hand brush hers as he opened the door for her. "Oh, no I…"

" _Wait!_ "

In an almost imperceptible blur, Beca came sprinting from the hotel's glass doors to the space between Chloe and the taxi. She crouched down slightly and told the driver, "You mind giving us a minute, buddy? Thanks!" before shutting the door and pulling Chloe back up the curb.

"Beca, what—?"

"Before you go," Beca cut in, slightly out of breath from her dash to intercept her, "can I ask you a question?"

Chloe was more apprehensive than surprised at this point, and slowly nodded. "Shoot," she echoed softly.

"Do you… do you believe that dreams can change? That, in a moment, everything you thought you wanted in life can suddenly seem so much less important than realizing that… all you really wanted—all you really _need_ in your life is some _one_." Beca looked straight into her eyes, the eyes that have captivated her the moment she laid her own eyes on them. "And… do you think it's worth taking the risk to follow that dream?"

Chloe's jaw went slack and she searched Beca's eyes, looking for evidence that this was just a hallucination, that in reality she was already inside the taxi and on her way to the airport while her mind played tricks on her, giving its final, desperate attempt to revive wishful thinking.

Because she _had_ to be hallucinating if things were laying themselves out so simply for her to decide—all in a simple question: " _Is it worth the risk?_ " Can everything really be so much less important than following your dreams?

"I…"

Beca continued to look straight at her. There was a mad mix of hopefulness and apprehension in those dark blue eyes that Chloe knew were reflected in hers. It only proved that Beca was just as clueless about the future as she was, but she must have realized something—something that Chloe still hadn't—if she was willing to jump into it.

Could it be? Was it really worth taking the risk?

Chloe was not ready; she was sure of that. She had no job, no degree, no voice, and at best an unstable future if she stayed with Beca. How could all of that be called insignificant compared to chasing a dream?

Reason was telling her no; this wasn't the _right_ thing to do. Chloe had already convinced herself that she had failed to prove her father wrong during her summer with the Bellas, and that her childish departure from Barden was a mistake…

But at least it was _her_ mistake.

She left Barden to make a point. Every step she took further away from home emphasized that point but, over time, it became clear to her that she had kept going for a different reason. She thought it had been about belonging with the girls—and the pain she felt after hearing Aubrey deny that was proof of that feeling—but it wasn't.

The truth was that she had _already_ been acting as though everything was less important than following her heart: she knew that she wanted to be on the tour, not to prove anything to anyone, but to simply _be_ with Beca. It was stupid, immature, and misguided—a 'mistake' by definition, but it was still _her_ mistake.

Whatever the outcome of that mistake was—good or bad—Chloe could take pride and comfort in the fact that she _deserved_ it.

So, yes, it may have been childish to leave Barden without fully understanding the world she was getting herself into, and apologizing and owning up to that mistake could be a mark of maturity. But it wasn't the _only_ mature thing to do in her situation; another was to commit to it and make the best out of what she was left with.

This was _her_ mistake to make and one she realized she was willing to make, no matter what end.

* * *

"Yes."

Beca finally felt the drumming of her heart mellow out to a slower rhythm and everything around her began to seem so much lighter, so much more colorful. The past was absolved and the future was suddenly not dark and gloomy. For now, all that mattered was the present… and Chloe saying _yes_.

"Okay, then. Well, goodbye."

Beca was too giddy on the inside to feel guilty for enjoying Chloe's reaction to her deadpanned reply. Chloe's face went from surprised to confused, then embarrassed to angry in seconds.

It was the first time Beca had ever seen Chloe angry _at_ her, but instead of remorse Beca felt only giddier, thinking about all the other 'firsts' she would be experiencing _with_ Chloe. So just before Chloe parted her lips to give the offending drummer a piece of her mind, Beca grabbed her face and took it upon herself to begin their next 'first' and kiss her damn face off.

* * *

 **\- INTERMISSION -**

* * *

There was nothing quite like the feeling of having someone you love wrapped in your arms—other than perhaps _being_ wrapped in the arms of someone you love. For Beca and Chloe, it felt as though the whole world had condensed into just the two of them, and the gravity between their bodies held them, and the entire universe, together.

Their first kiss was perfect—gentle yet deep, and not too heated as to cause discomfort to the people around them (it was, after all, peak check-in time outside a hotel). They knew there would be more and more kisses after this; they were just glad to finally be able to physically express their affection for each other and pleased to find out that they fit together like two pieces of a puzzle.

After slowly pulling apart, Chloe leaned back with her arms still around Beca's waist and smiled lovingly at her. She waited for Beca to return the look before drilling a knuckle into her the side of her ribs.

"Ow!" Beca yelped, jerking away and rubbing the ticklish spot.

"That was for tricking me!" Chloe said hotly, crossing her arms in annoyance. "I really thought you were leading me on!"

"I'm sorry," Beca apologized, though she was clearly holding back a smile. "But it was worth seeing your face get all scrunchy—"

Beca grabbed Chloe's hands before they came within striking distance and pinned them to her sides so she could have a clear shot at a quick kiss. She just loved the softness of Chloe's lips.

That seemed to placate the redhead, though a faint crease between her brows and her pursed lips indicated that it wasn't enough. Nevertheless, Chloe relaxed her arms and wrapped them around Beca's neck when they were released from her sides.

"Don't think you're getting off the hook that easily," she warned.

"I'm not worried," Beca smirked. "I've got all the time in the world to make it up to you. Everyday, letting you know how much you mean to me, how much every minute spent with you—whether you're happy with me, or angry with me—makes me feel like I'm the luckiest person in the world.

"Because, honestly, that's all I can think about right now," she confessed, unable to keep her eyes off of Chloe's. "Getting to have just one more day with you already makes me crazy; imagine what a future with you would do to me."

That finally did the trick; Chloe's eyes flashed for a second before she leaned forward and captured Beca's lips in a hungry kiss, then she quickly repositioned her lips beside Beca's ear and whispered, "Can you imagine what _I_ am going to do to you, after hearing you say all that?"

Beca felt a shiver run up her spine and she blushed a deep pink when, looking past Chloe, she realized that Gail and a handful of the hotel staff were standing by the entranceway grinning at them knowingly. The bubble that had been keeping them in their own, private little world effectively burst.

"Guh…" Beca cleared her throat and motioned toward the small crowd they had attracted.

"Oh… hello," Chloe said sheepishly after turning around. Then she noticed her luggage sitting neatly beside the bellhop.

"I took the liberty of taking your bags out of the taxi, Miss Chloe," he said with a cheeky smile. When the girls turned they saw that the taxi had already driven off. "I assume you won't be leaving us any time soon."

Beca and Chloe turned to Gail, who suddenly tossed something shiny and jingly toward Beca. "The—ahem _—empty_ room is all yours," she winked. "Don't worry, I'll let you know if someone's on their way up."

Beca closed her fist around the keys and grinned. "Thanks!"

* * *

Beca fumbled with fitting the key into the hole since she could feel Chloe's gaze on the back of her neck the entire time. There was something predatory in her look, something Beca had never seen so pronounced in Chloe's eyes before, and it both scared and excited her. Finally, she managed to turn the lock and looked up at Chloe in triumph, only to be distracted by the bath-robed figure across the hallway, leaning against the wall and grinning goofily at the two.

"You know, I never really saw you as a total creep," Beca sighed at Jesse. "But now I'm starting to."

Chloe twisted around and all of a sudden the seductress was gone, replaced by the cheerful and friendly Chloe who greeted everyone with hugs. "Jesse!"

"I heard the Trebles were here but we never crossed paths," Beca remarked, reaching for a handshake only to be pulled into a hug, too.

"Yeah, sorry. I messed up my sleep-schedule driving all the way here and I've been trying to get it back ever since we arrived." Jesse smiled and gestured between them. "It's nice to see you two have finally worked things out."

The girls exchanged slightly breathless looks. "Yeah, so… if you could just—"

"Don't worry, I have a good reason to interrupt your _love-making_ —"

Beca cringed horribly and cursed Jesse for ruining a perfectly decent euphemism by waggling his eyebrows.

"—and it involves me waking up a few minutes ago, opening my wallet, and finding out I've been robbed of two hundred dollars. There was also a note," he added quickly, before Beca could ask how he deemed that a 'good' reason, and handed over a small scrap of hotel stationery.

' _Off to Vegas! I'm in love, bitches!'_ read the note, followed by a series of crude drawings illustrating what 'love' meant to the author.

"Someone took your money and headed to Las Vegas?" Chloe asked curiously. Meanwhile, Beca was remembering times she had frequently found twenties missing from her own wallet, and who was usually behind it…

Chloe was still taking them through her thought processes. "Why would the thief leave you a note explaining where they were headed? Unless…" She gasped, "He's a Treble! And—wait—Benji left this morning with Emily, didn't he? But they were going to Disneyland…" Then she gasped even louder. "Unless he _lied_ and they're really going to Vegas—to elope!" Finally, she shouted, "BENJI AND EMILY ARE GETTING MARRIED?!"

"Calm down, Chlo, I don't think he means _those_ two," Beca said, and then gave Jesse an understanding eye-roll. "Fat Amy steals from me, too."

"Fat Amy? ' _Those_ two'?" Chloe frowned, looking between Jesse and Beca, who found it adorable that Chloe still hadn't put it together, whereas she had already suspected that something was going on between the two ever since Emily pointed out the unusual timing of the Trebles' arrival and the return of Amy's trysts.

"As much as Benji loves her, I'm sure he understands that Emily's _way_ too young to get married," Jesse said helpfully. "Also, Benji doesn't call us 'bitches.' So, with them out of the equation, I guess the cat's out of the bag now." He splayed his arms out. "We're becoming musical in-laws! Through Bumper and Amy!"

Beca shook her head in disbelief at both the news and Jesse's overenthusiastic pronouncement. Chloe, on the other hand, looked dumbfounded. "But how did _they_ get together? I thought they were doing that stupid sex competition—"

"Well, it turns out that when Fat Amy said she'd scored a hundred and fifteen times, she meant she'd had sex a hundred and fifteen times… with _one_ guy," shrugged Beca. "And that guy was Bumper."

"Oh…" Chloe rubbed her chin thoughtfully and without warning smacked Beca on the shoulder. "I can't believe we're the _third_ couple to get together! Even Amy and Bumper can act on sexual tension when they see it!"

"At least we got together before Jesse and Aubrey did!" defended Beca. "I mean, _if_ they even will—"

"Gee, thanks," Jesse replied sarcastically. "Now I don't feel so bad interrupting you two."

Chloe blinked and turned to Beca with a smirk. The seductress was back. "Speaking of which…"

Jesse walked away, shaking his head but grinning all the while, when Chloe grabbed Beca's wrist and led her inside their room, shutting the door behind them with her heel.

* * *

"You were going to leave Christopher?" Beca asked, holding the stuffed bear in the air above her while Chloe started on a trail of kisses down from her jaw to her collarbone.

"Mm-hm."

Beca knew she would be opening a can of worms, but she needed to ask. "Why?"

Chloe hoisted herself up on her elbows and looked down at Beca. "A reminder of me, I guess. And… a symbol of me leaving behind something I thought I'd gotten over already."

"Me?"

Chloe giggled. "No, silly, my childhood." She rolled off of Beca and continued, "I left Barden to prove that I was grown up, that I could deserve something on my own. Bringing Christopher along kind of proved the opposite 'cause he kept me more optimistic than realistic. So when I decided to back to Barden, I told myself that, even if it meant I failed, swallowing my pride and coming home was the only thing I could do to show that I _had_ grown up, at least a little bit."

Beca continued to stare thoughtfully into the toy's single beady eye.

Their reasons for leaving were the same after all; they both wanted to prove to their families that they were capable of venturing into the real world to chase after their dreams. Beca suddenly felt foolish to have thought that Chloe's departure was all about her; and the color flooding her cheeks showed it.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, it's stupid… _I'm_ stupid," muttered Beca. "I kind of… thought you left Barden because you wanted to be with me." The words sounded just as dumb out loud as they did in her head.

But Chloe scooted closer and laid her head on Beca's shoulder. "I didn't say that wasn't true," she said softly. "I had a lot of reasons for leaving and not all of them made sense… It's just that the loudest was you. I just wanted to be wherever you were."

There was a long pause wherein both of them thought about their decisions and the reasons behind them. It brought back a lot of the past, which, though absolved, was still a heavy and complicated mess. Not to mention the every more complicated future.

"Sorry for killing the mood," Beca said with a small chuckle moments later.

"Nah, it's not your fault. We really do have some serious things to talk about." Chloe started tracing random patterns on Beca's chest with her finger. "But like you said, we have tomorrow—and the next day, and the day after that. For now, I want to slow things down and just _be_ with you."

The eagerness and heat were gone, but what replaced them was a comfortable satisfaction felt by the two. They were finally together; that was all that mattered. Beca drew an arm around Chloe and pulled her in closer, silently assuring her that she would do everything she could to make all of their decisions worth it.

* * *

They lay in bed for so long, listening to each other's breathing and making gentle caresses her and there, that they hadn't noticed when they began drifting off to sleep. Emotional exhaustion from recent events knocked them out for more than a few hours, so by the time Beca's eyes fluttered open, it was completely dark save for the bedside lamp.

Chloe was still asleep beside her, with one leg curled around Beca's and Christopher tucked securely between her arm and chest. Beca smiled at old habits dying hard and kissed Chloe softly on the forehead before carefully extricating herself from the bed.

Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she absentmindedly trudged toward the kitchen for a drink. It was only when she set the glass down that she noticed the adjoining door was half open and the lights in the room were all on.

Beca wondered if Aubrey had returned to collect her things and decided to check in on them, and her pulse quickened that the thought that the singer might still be in there. Beca approached the door cautiously and took a peek inside.

An assortment of Disneyland souvenirs and memorabilia littered the living area and sitting at the center of it all, cross-legged in front of the coffee table, was Emily. She was so focused on writing something that Beca was only a few feet away from her when she looked up.

"Beca!"

"How was Disneyland?" Beca said pointedly, causing Emily to lower her head at once.

"I-I'm sorry I left without you," she said meekly. "It's just that last night was so depressing and I needed something to cheer myself up—"

"Hey, don't worry about it," Beca brushed off with a wave. "To be honest, I wasn't looking forward to all the height jokes anyway. But still, I think Chloe was really looking forward to going with you."

Emily smiled and returned Beca's pointed look. "I'm sure you've pleased her some _other_ way."

"Don't get cheeky," Beca warned jokingly.

Beca lowered herself down to sit across Emily, who had sobered once again when she realized they had run out of pleasant things to talk about. They avoided each other's eyes at the beginning, but eventually they amassed the courage to bring up the elephant in the room.

"You knew the Bellas were over, didn't you?" said Beca. "That's why you didn't show up at the studio. You knew since last night that nothing was going to happen."

Emily nodded slowly. "When Aubrey came back to our room, she seemed different. She didn't look more upset or anything but there was definitely something different about her," she recalled. "Out of nowhere she told me to do whatever makes me happy—and that was it. She went to bed after that and I didn't really know what to say. When I woke up, she was gone and Fat Amy was gone, too, and that was when I took the hint. I was so heartbroken that the Bellas were over, I couldn't think straight, so I ran over to Benji's room and begged him to take me to Disneyland."

Beca listened patiently throughout Emily's explanation but there was something that she felt was missing. Or rather, something she _wanted_ to hear. "If Aubrey hadn't said anything, would you have gone anyway?"

"Of course not!" Emily said at once. "I knew the fight was pretty bad, but I thought it could still be fixed in the morning. The Bellas are a _family_ ," she said firmly. "Families fight, but at the end of the day they still love each other."

Beca couldn't resist smiling at Emily's signature optimism. It almost made her feel bad about telling Emily that Chloe had actually planned to leave that day, along with a noncommittal synopsis of what she did to stop that.

Emily was shocked by the end of it. "It was _that_ bad?!"

"Did you really think we could've walked away from last night without a few scars?" said Beca. "Honestly, it was over the moment Chloe walked out of the dressing room."

Emily raised her eyebrows and Beca suddenly realized that she was saying out loud her thoughts earlier that day:

 _Watching Chloe walk away from her… Her dreams slipping away…_ _It was over the moment Chloe walked out._

As young and naïve as she was, Emily knew in an instant what was going through Beca's mind because she herself understood the feelings underpinning them. "You are _so_ in love with her!" she teased with glee. "See, you can't even imagine the Bellas without Chloe!"

Beca attempted to scowl but there really wasn't anything to deny. She had already decided that Chloe was the dream she should be chasing, so maybe it wasn't that Emily and Fat Amy _sensed_ that something had broken last night; maybe they left for their own reasons. And that broken feeling was just Beca's own heart, telling her that she didn't want to go on if Chloe wasn't going to be there with her.

"Yeah, well…" Beca gestured at the piece of paper lying on the coffee table between them. "What have you been up to? What's this?"

Emily smirked at the obvious diversion but she let it slide. "Well, after a couple of rides, I felt guilty about all the fun I was having with Benji. I remembered how excited I was thinking I'd be there with the Bellas, so I decided to go back—"

"After buying a bunch of souvenirs, I see."

"They're for all of you girls!" defended Emily. "Anyway, when I got back to the hotel, Gail let me in and for some reason she wanted to peek into your room." She giggled at the memory. "You and Chloe were snuggled up pretty closely so I thought, hey, at least you got your happy ending.

"Then it hit me again that it was actually _ending_ ," she sighed. "You see, I was thankful for every day we had on tour together because I knew those days were numbered for me. I was happy enough thinking that it would go on for the rest of you, but after Gail filled me in, I got all sad. So I thought writing about everything that's happened might make me feel thankful again."

Emily slid the paper toward Beca and flipped it around. "As soon as I started writing, I realized I was basically working on my summer homework."

Emily watched Beca's expression nervously. She had hoped to finish the essay before booking her flight back to Barden, so that she could show it to them as a sort of good-bye. She had tried to write a really good essay, one that could perfectly encompass what she would forever cherish about their summer vacation.

She wanted to capture every facet of what it meant to be a Barden Bella at the height of their golden age. She wanted to show their drive and ambition, their passion, their individual quirks and personalities, and, most importantly, the love they shared. Whether it was through a mutual affinity for music or a strong sense of sisterhood, Emily knew in her heart that what began in a basement in Barden had grown into a family.

"I haven't figured out the ending yet," she confessed, seeing that Beca had reached the bottom of the page.

Beca smiled softly, thinking that, out of all the Bellas, Emily deserved the least realistic, the least grown-up ending—one where bills didn't need paying, couples never break up, and summers never ended.

"Some journeys don't have endings," she advised, "because they don't need one. Some journeys can just be… certain events in your life that mean something special."

Emily's expression cleared and she seemed to like what Beca was saying. "You're right! Just because the summer ended, it doesn't mean the end of everything that I worked for, or everything that I learned during this time, right?"

Beca nodded as she watched Emily grab her pen and finish off the last paragraph.

"I was also having trouble thinking of a title," Emily murmured after a while. She chewed the tip of her pen thoughtfully, before eventually scribbling something near the top of the page. "I wanted it to be flashy and profound, but that was not what this essay was about… There. What d'you think?"

Beca read the top line once Emily lifted her hand off the paper. She held back a sigh of exasperation as she imagined some boys in Emily's class having a field day reading her title, but Beca supposed that it was Emily's destiny, as the innocent one, to experience (and rise above) it.

After all, Beca shouldn't write off the young girl's maturity so easily; she _was_ the first to act on her feelings and pursue her true summer love.

"Seems perfect to me."

Emily breathed a sigh of relief and happily pressed the creases out of her essay. A soft knock drew their attentions to the adjoining door, where Chloe was resting one hand on the frame while holding onto Christopher by the arm with the other.

"So you came running back, huh?" she said to Emily with a small smirk.

"You're one to talk," Emily teased back.

Chloe sat on Beca's left and the instant she did began scrutinizing Emily's left hand. "Well, as long as you didn't secretly get married."

Emily frowned in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

Beca and Chloe exchanged looks. Apparently they were still the only two Bellas who knew about Fat Amy, and neither really wanted to give their youngest band mate any ideas. "Nothing," they echoed.

"What's this?" Chloe pulled Emily's paper toward her.

"My 'How I Spent My Summer Vacation' essay," said Emily, missing the diversion this time. "Obviously I wrote all about the Bellas. Beca gave me some really good advice on how to end it, too."

" _The Summer of '69_ , by Emily H. Junk," Chloe read aloud. "Did she give you advice on the title, too—?"

Beca elbowed her in the ribs and hid a laugh behind a fake cough. Emily, on the other hand, only jutted her chest proudly and said, "It was my idea! Pretty elegant, huh?"

Chloe didn't respond. She had meant to give Beca a chastising look after the jab to her side but was quickly mesmerized by those stormy blue eyes. The gravity between them had kicked in once more that, while Chloe and Emily had been exchanging words, Beca had managed to scoot closer to Chloe to feel her warmth.

Their faces were now only inches apart, and the smirk on Beca's face seemed to dare Chloe into action, but the redhead was just as capable of teasing. Chloe licked her lips before catching the bottom one between her teeth. She breathed in deeply and moved ever so slightly forward—but pulled back just when Beca started to lean in.

Across the coffee table, Emily was shaking her head in amusement at the spectacle. "Hey!" She snapped her fingers at the two. "I know most of y'all knew about us, but at least Benji and I had the decency to hide _our_ cheesiness—it's only fair that you do, too!"

Chloe turned back to Emily but Beca kept her gaze on her a second long enough to notice her smile faltering slightly. Chloe lowered her eyes to the paper and read a few lines. "So how _does_ your essay end, Em?"

Then Beca understood. At the mention of Benji, Chloe was reminded of the ending—not theirs, but Emily's. And she was upset because, for Emily, the end of summer also meant…

"It doesn't end," Beca answered on Emily's behalf. Under the table, she reached for Chloe's hand. They exchanged a quick look before she explained, "Emily wanted to capture what this summer was all about, and I think it's safe to say that, for me—for _all_ of us, this was the best summer of our lives so far.

"We traveled across the country, performed our hit song for thousands and thousands of fans; we've been on TV _and_ in a movie… We even found the people we were meant to be with.

"It was a summer of bliss, and I think that's what Emily wanted to write about. It doesn't matter what happens after, or what it all means in the end. It's enough to be just what it is… the summer of '69."

 **THE END**

* * *

 **Response to Reviews:**

 **jalex1** (Dec. 5) - Maybe it was my subconscious acknowledgement that your brain wasn't ready that made me delay the ending haha.

 **Big Fan** (Dec. 5) - In Aubrey's defense (since she isn't here to defend herself haha), she knows more about the Beales than Stacie does; maybe she wants to believe they're not as heartless are her own parents.

 **Guest** (Dec. 5) - Thank you! At the moment, I just wanna focus on finishing the stories I have begun haha.

 **RJRMovieFan** (Dec. 6) - Phew! Personally, I thought the twist was too far-fetched to work in real life, but then I reminded myself that none of this was real haha. Yeah, I didn't want Aubrey to be a Jimmy so I had to find a way for her to come out neutral, if not positive.

 **Reader** (Dec. 6) - Definitely. Sorry I made you wait though.

 **Guest** (Dec. 27) - I've been busy with the holidays! Sorry it took a while to wrap up (some) loose ends before publishing.

* * *

 **A/N:** First, addressing the obvious concern – as in most of my stories, there _will_ be an Epilogue. I intended it to be placed at the end of this chapter but when I scrapped the idea of ending this as the movie did (sometime around the second intermission), I also decided to turn the Epilogue into a sort of minisode instead. It'll have its own plot while also answering other questions that weren't answered in this chapter.

Secondly, I'll admit that it was inconsistent to have such a lengthy chapter but I couldn't cut it anywhere, not even at the intermissions because everything Beca and Chloe were feeling at the beginning factored into everything that happens at the end... Anyway, if there's something unclear or if you feel like the tone had changed drastically, it's probably because I had written different parts at different times in the past 8 months and I was too lazy to properly edit this.

Lastly, I know it's not the end yet but I'd still like to thank you for reading this far. It has been a fun journey for me, too.

* * *

 **BONUS LOVE:** For followers of _The Light_ (that sounded cultish but I meant followers of my other story with a ridiculously long title) there's a special treat waiting for you at imgur (period – because 'dot' is apparently too suspicious) com (forward slash) a (forward slash again) Ab93S. (Sorry, I have no idea how to write links on FF.)


	16. Part II: Chapter One

**Chapter One**

 _Los Angeles, California. Early summer, 1970._

A tiny, beat-up Oldsmobile sputtered to a stop in front of a modest, blue and white apartment in a residential neighbourhood in Los Angeles. The lamp across the street flickered in greeting as a tiny and tired brunette exited the car. The loud _CHUD_ that came with shutting the door set off a chain of barking dogs, and the woman cursed into the night.

Living in a big town was exactly how Beca Mitchell had imagined it would be. She worked long hours to afford an apartment that never seemed big enough. She could find everything she needed at a single store that sold anything under the sun, but she'd have to take her car or a bus to get there as hardly anything was within walking distance. There were a lot more people of different shapes and colours—some were interesting and wonderful while others were much less so.

Basically, like every other place where one was trying to build their 'home', there were times Beca loved LA and times she hated it. Working late because the guy who was supposed to take the slot after hers was getting high in someone's basement fell under the 'hate it' category. But no matter how late she came home, the very act of coming home would always be a reason to love it.

Because no matter how her day went, what awaited Beca at home made everything she loved or hated about Los Angeles seem insignificant by comparison. She could be living in a ditch or paid a quarter of a million dollars a year, yet the only thing she would be happy about was simply coming home.

Beca slipped the key in and turned the knob as slowly as she could to make as little noise as possible. She often did this when entering their small apartment to surprise and catch her roommate off guard; to find her in her natural state and see if she was the same person by herself and around Beca.

"Hmm-hm-dum-da-da-da—darn it."

A redhead sitting cross-legged on the floor of their small living room with a guitar on her lap cursed when she heard how the chord she played sounded. She furrowed her brow, played a few more random ones, harmonizing with her voice, before taking it up again.

"Da-da-da—" Then she stopped abruptly to write on a piece of paper in front of her while vocalizing a rocking guitar solo. "Beow-nyew-nyew! Pow, pow, ooh—"

And every single time Beca came home this way, she got the same answer: Chloe Beale was just as much of a dork by herself as she was around Beca.

"—tada-da-da-da!"

Beca couldn't stop a chuckle from escaping her throat as she watched Chloe get lost in her daydream. "Cool melody. Do you have lyrics to go along with that?"

Chloe turned toward the door with the brightest smile on her face, looking like a child being offered all the candy in the world. She leaped off the floor and bounded toward Beca to wrap her arms around her neck and kiss her.

"You're home late," she pouted.

"Sorry, I wasn't expecting it either," said Beca. "How was your day? Did you..." She glanced quickly around the apartment and noticed the boxes of take-out on the counter and the unmade bed. "Er, spend it all at home?"

"Uh-huh." Chloe nodded, moving to the kitchen to clean up.

"Okay…"

Beca decided not to ask Chloe whether she had gotten any job offers that day. In fact, she doubted that Chloe had even sent her resume out in the past few weeks. But seeing her happily strumming at the guitar pushed all of that to the back of Beca's mind.

Almost a year had passed since they settled down in LA. Beca had accepted the radio job at the jazz station and successfully co-produced a commentary album with Del Paxton and other jazz legends under Residual Heat Records. The royalties from that and the money she and Chloe had saved from their time with the Barden Bellas had allowed them to rent a small apartment and purchase an old second-hand car. Chloe had taken classes at the local community college to complete the credits she needed for her English degree while taking part-time jobs in the evenings and weekends.

Beca set her bag down and asked again, "So? Have you written lyrics for it?"

"Nah, I was just messing around," Chloe said, waving a hand dismissively.

Beca gave her a look. "You know enough of it to compose a solo…"

"Well, I guess I do have something in mind," she said hesitantly. "But it's just one line that repeats."

"Sing it."

Chloe twirled around and bit her lip. "It's going to sound silly but… it goes like this…" She joined Beca on the couch and picked up the guitar. She began a rhythmic riff and sang,

" _I wish she was my girlfriend…_

 _I wish she was my girlfriend..."_

Beca's smile ran from ear to ear. She actually knew the melody very well; it had come to Chloe almost a year ago but was shelved during the whole ordeal. Lately, however, she had begun humming it again, and eventually she picked up the guitar gifted to them by Stacie. Recently, Beca noticed, she had begun trying to write lyrics for it.

Chloe hadn't gotten far yet and was singing the same line over and over, but Beca didn't mind; hearing her bright and angelic voice ringing (loudly, not reservedly like it used to) through their apartment for the first time since they moved in was more than enough reason to let her keep going.

But the singing didn't last forever. Like every other milestone they reached in the past year—securing an apartment, getting a job—they celebrated Chloe's return to singing with a lot of affectionate touching, kissing, and general fooling around.

* * *

 _Residual Heat Records. Midnight._

The men in the room all wore similar expressions and haphazardly put on suits. Tired, bloodshot eyes all pointed toward the head of the board room table, where Sammy Siler was sending out directives at each and every one of them. The President of Residual Heat Records had driven straight from the airport after getting off a twelve-hour flight from London and immediately called for a meeting, which was why every jaw in the room seemed wired shut to keep their owners from yawning.

Stacie gave an inconspicuous glance at her wristwatch. Mr. Siler was going around the table clockwise and had a good five people to go before reaching her. She used that time to prepare what to say, since she had an idea what Mr. Siler was going to hound her about.

While the head of A&R was getting grilled, Stacie reflected on her new job as Director for Artist Development. She had been transferred out of the department currently being reprimanded for rush-signing lacklustre artists and into one that worked to improve the artists already signed on to the label. Mr. Siler had ordered her transfer personally (which was no longer a surprise to her male co-workers) because, after she strategically manoeuvred through the Bellas debacle, he found her to be more useful at headquarters than going around the country signing artists.

Stacie believed her middle-management position didn't merit her being at that midnight meeting, so the fact that she was meant serious trouble for one particular person. Stacie was in charge of one of the label's most explosive artists—explosive in both a good and bad way.

Aubrey Posen.

Their risky ploy last year to get both the tribute and original albums on track for the Barden Bellas had backfired when the band itself ceased to exist, but Stacie had managed to spin it into a solo album for the band's frontwoman instead. As expected, most of the Bellas' core fans had been upset, but Stacie's carefully planned PR campaign dispelled any suspicion that the band's break up was either scandalous or unintentional, which led to sustained support for Aubrey's solo career.

 _A career that has gone exceptionally well_ , Stacie noted to herself with a small sigh. Four of Aubrey's original songs had reached the Billboard Top 100; the Marketing department consistently reported good numbers on her target demographics (and then some), and sales have been comfortably steady.

So on paper, there was really nothing wrong. But the problem was something that Mr. Siler, and even Stacie, had the business foresight to be worried about in the long-term: Aubrey had yet to settle on a particular _sound_. The Bellas as a group had been categorically rock and roll, and it was worth noting that the top four songs on her latest album were also arguably in a similar genre; the rest of her songs ranged from slow ballads to folk rock to country.

And from Stacie's meetings and conversations with the blonde, it didn't seem as though Aubrey was done experimenting with her musical styles.

"And then we have Miss Conrad."

Stacie set her features into a reverent acknowledgment of her impending reprobation as Mr. Siler finally rounded on her.

"…the proverbial prodigal son."

"I think she'd prefer 'daughter,'" sniggered the head of Publicity.

"The point is, Conrad," Mr. Siler said loudly, effectively silencing the men's stifled laughter, "that you have a habit of making disastrous choices, redeeming yourself from them, and then continuing to make more. Right now, you're back on a downward path with Aubrey Posen."

"I understand, sir, and—"

"The draft you sent me was very, very… _not_ what I asked for," Mr. Siler continued, shaking his head.

"There's still—"

"We're working on a tight deadline, Conrad. I'm going to need a new set by Monday morning."

"Sir, it's just going to—"

"Can you not handle your artist, Miss Conrad? Should I be asking someone else to do this?"

Stacie resisted rolling her eyes at the looks of barely suppressed glee on the faces of the men around the table. Mr. Siler, however, hadn't bothered to look up from his notebook. "I can, sir."

"We shall see. Now…"

As Mr. Siler continued on to the next person, it was obvious that everyone besides Stacie and the label's president was disappointed that Stacie's reprimand did not do more than undermine her confidence. Stacie, on the other hand, was smart enough to read between the lines.

Her being there antagonized the male executives, not least because they believed she was Siler's favourite, and her reprimand was meant to strike down that belief. The company was facing competition from smaller labels that were finding it easier to establish themselves, while the larger ones were eager to buy out their competition. Everyone needed a boost in performance.

She and Aubrey were lambs being prepped on the sacrificial table.

* * *

 _Barden, Georgia. Early summer, 1970._

The overhead sun was unforgiving and Emily was glad she had chosen to hang out at the auto-shop instead of her original plan to go to the park. The cherry popsicle melting all over her hand had lost its flavor so she tossed the chunk of ice into the nearby trash can.

"I don't remember it being this hot last summer," she huffed, pulling a wet nap from her bag to wipe her sticky fingers.

"You were on the road and in LA then, living in air-conditioned buses hotel rooms," said a voice from underneath the hood of a blue convertible. "But then again, this could be that whole global warming thing."

"You don't really believe that's true, do you?" Emily asked conversationally, swinging her legs back and forth while she sat on the hood of another car. "The thought is so scary."

"What's so scary?"

A tall, handsome young man with short sandy blond hair and sky blue eyes let himself in the garage, carrying three bottles between his fingers. The top two buttons on his pressed blue shirt were undone and his cheeks were flushed with the heat.

"Hey, Chuck!" Emily greeted, accepting the cold beverage with a thanks. "Long time no see."

"Sorry, I've been so busy with the clerkship," he replied, handing the other bottle to the mechanic. "I have the afternoon off though so I thought I'd check on my baby sister's car. How's she doing, CR?"

The woman underneath the hood stood up straight, wiped her brow, and chugged her drink. "She's hanging in there but I'm surprised Chloe got around on this thing as much as she had. But I can't guarantee you can take her on the road yet."

"On the road? Why, what's happened to your car?" Emily asked curiously. When the older Beale paused to phrase his answer properly, the answer became clear. "You're taking it to Chloe?!"

"I thought she could use it in LA. I've been meaning to see her for almost a year now but I just couldn't get away from school," Chuck said guiltily.

"Well, if it's a road trip I'm in!" said Emily. "I've also been absolutely _longing_ to go back. I'm tired of living vicariously through their letters."

"Then why don't you?" said Cynthia Rose, shutting the hood of Chloe's convertible and wiping her hands on a rag. "Your parents will probably let you go now that you've already been there."

With a dramatic sigh, Emily leaned back to lie on the windshield. "Yeah, but they're also harping on me about college applications. I still haven't figured out what I want to do and, well, the music thing is…" she glanced awkwardly at Chuck, "still a touchy subject."

"Hey, don't let what my parents think get in the way of what's in your heart," he advised. "It did for Chloe and look where it got her."

"What are you talking about, Chloe's doing great out there!" said Emily, surprised. "Don't tell me you wish she had come back with me?"

"Well, no—and yes." The older Beale sighed. "I just hate the thought of her having a rough time, you know? I can't protect her if she's on the other side of the country. My parents are constantly on the edge worried about her, too. We just want to _do_ something to help her out but she won't let us."

"Chloe turned down your parents' money out of principle," reminded Cynthia Rose. "I'm sure she appreciates that you guys care _now_ ," she added with a bit of a bite, "but this is exactly why she didn't come home, right? She wants to rough it out there in LA."

"I suppose you're right," he conceded. "I just really miss her. And it feels weird that we haven't reconciled as a family, face-to-face."

"Your parents could have gone to LA any time in the past year," Cynthia Rose pointed out. She still felt a slight resentment toward Mr. and Mrs. Beale for the way they treated Chloe. "You I understand having to go through med school but a trip to the West Coast would only take a few days."

"Come on, cut them some slack," Chuck defended awkwardly. "With Dad running for election in November—on top of his law practice—they just couldn't spare the time. Chloe understands…"

Cynthia Rose shrugged and returned to her work. "I'm sure she does."

Chuck stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked to the other car. "Em?" The young brunette had been staring into space throughout the latter half of the conversation.

"Sorry… I couldn't stop thinking about LA," she said sheepishly. "School had kept me so busy I guess I never got to think about how much I really miss it."

"How much you really miss LA… or a certain Treblemaker?" Cynthia Rose said cheekily.

Emily rolled her eyes. "Benji's on tour right now. And I do mean LA, but I also miss Chloe, and Beca, and Aubrey, and Amy, and Stacie," she listed happily. "It's just hard to think that I was once a _rock star_ and now I'm… trying to get ideas on what to do the rest of my life by watching CR work in an auto-shop. No offense."

Cynthia Rose shook her head with a chuckle. "None taken. I'm glad you're learning to say what's on your mind now."

Emily smiled and thoughtfully turned back to the horizon outside. After a while she surmised, "Maybe that's what I need to _make up_ my mind, about college and all that… a trip to LA."

"Well, if CR gets Chloe's car done soon we could all drive over there together," offered Chuck.

Emily hummed gratefully and looked forward to it. In spite of how they had left things, she was optimistic that the girls would be up for a reunion.

* * *

Back in Los Angeles, several hours after the meeting with Mr. Siler, Stacie walked into a marbled lobby of a prominent Hollywood hotel and headed straight to the concierge desk.

"Good morning, ma'am. What can I do for you?"

"Hello. I'm here for the," Stacie glanced down at her notebook and read, "LA County Music and Performing Arts Commission event?"

"Very good, ma'am. Are you a member of the press?" The concierge ran her finger down a guest list.

Stacie wasn't aware that it was a private event. "Er, no. I'm with Residual Heat."

"Ah, yes, they did leave an open slot for walk-ins. Kindly provide an ID for verification and you may proceed to registration."

A few minutes later, Stacie hooked an event pass around her neck and entered the hall where the mysterious event was being held. She had no idea what Mr. Siler had in mind when he had pulled Stacie aside after their meeting to instruct her to attend it. Usually the label sent someone from Publicity or Marketing.

She looked around the decorated hall and waited. Finally, the program started and Stacie soon realized what the fuss was about. The LACMPAC was reaffirming their agenda, which was mainly to promote and nourish artistic culture in LA.

This year, the centerpiece of that endeavor was the LACMPAC hosting a Battle of the Bands competition. The announcement was the reason behind the whole shebang and Stacie found herself yet again wondering why Mr. Siler had her attend when she was no longer working with A&R, or why it even needed a press conference. Battle of the Bands competitions had been growing popular over the past few years; she didn't see the novelty of yet another one in the entertainment capital of the world.

"But this would be no ordinary Battle of the Bands," continued the speaker, as if to disprove Stacie's thoughts. "The Commission has partnered with the competition's sponsors and its counterpart commissions in other regions to expand the network of contestants and organize the first ever _nationwide_ Battle of the Bands competition!"

Stacie's brow raised ever so slightly.

"Due to the delay in negotiations, several local competitions around the country have had their finalists since the first quarter of the year, while other cities to whom the competition is now open will begin issuing entry requirements a week from today..."

Stacie ignored the remainder of the speaker's prepared speech once the attendants began handing out pamphlets with the competition mechanics. She grabbed one and made for the door with the intention of confronting her boss to find out if his plan was indeed what she had deduced it was, when a towering figure suddenly blocked her path.

"Excuse me—"

"Stacie Conrad?"

Stacie look up, startled by the foreign accent that spoke her name. "Can I help you?"

"I have a message I believe you can deliver to a mutual acquaintance."

* * *

Beca rubbed her face and glanced up at the clock above the studio's door. It was nearing the hour she'd be opening the line for calls, which wasn't exactly her favourite thing about working as a disc jockey at a late-night jazz station. Around half of her callers were either drunk or high and only a rare few of the latter contributed any meaningful discussion. But the first few were always decent; they came from actual listeners.

Tonight, she was holding a competition to win two tickets to a popular jazz festival in August. She hoped that the first caller would get all the answers correctly so that she wouldn't have to keep feigning excitement every time someone attempted the challenge.

The engineer in the control room gave her a thumbs up to speak on the phone. "Hey there, you're on the air with Beca Mitchell at KDAY's Jazz Nights," she recited quickly and with as little passion as she could manage. "If you can answer the following three questions correctly you win two tickets to the End of Summer Jazz Jamboree. Are you ready?"

There was a pause on the other line which Beca let slide—a lot of callers got nervous at the prospect of speaking publicly, even in anonymity. Either that or there was a problem with the reception.

"Hel—?"

" _Yes._ "

The answer was terse and Beca found it difficult to determine the gender of its owner. She decided against the introductory niceties and simply continued, "All right. The first is an easy one: this was the name of a period in the 1920's when jazz music became popular."

Beca had expected the caller to know the answer by now, but the blaring silence proved otherwise. "The particular term was coined by novelist F. Scott Fitzgerald," she added. "And his works often illustrated this period."

More silence. Beca looked at the sound engineer in confusion. He checked the line and shrugged to indicate that there should be no problem. She opened her mouth but was once again interrupted by the voice.

" _I must admit,_ " it began slowly and deliberately. Beca could now tell that it was female; strong, with an unusual timbre that felt familiar and alien at the same time. " _I do not know a lot about jazz._ "

Beca bit her tongue to keep in a sarcastic remark.

" _But I know someone who does,_ " the woman continued in her almost chillingly slow manner, as though intent on being understood clearly.

"So, you want to win the tickets for a friend," said Beca, halfheartedly trying to liven the conversation. "That's nice. Could... he or she maybe help you out with the answer?"

" _There is no need. The answer is obviously the Jazz Age._ "

Beca sat back and gave the engineer a look, to which he chuckled in reply. She had a sinking feeling this wasn't going to be as quick and easy as she'd hoped.

"You are absolutely right," she said, straining her voice to sound ecstatic. "Let's hope you can keep it up." She looked down at the paper in her hand and smiled in spite of her situation. "He is a famous jazz musician and all-around instrumentalist whose album, _Time To Blow_ , last year was the highest-selling jazz album of all time. Who is he?"

Beca was surprised to hear a small chuckle on the other line. " _My friend adores his work._ "

 _As do I,_ thought Beca, wishing it was her friend on the line instead.

" _Del Paxton._ "

Beca was thankful that the woman knew the answer so quickly, especially since the last one was practically a giveaway.

"Right again. And if you get this last one, you'll be our winner of two tickets to the End of Summer Jazz Jamboree," she recited once more, building artificial hype. "Jazz has a reputation for having many different styles—Dixieland, swing, bebop, and the growing trend of blending rock and jazz. But these styles are all usually built upon the same instruments. Can you name three?"

Beca rested her chin on her hand and waited. The final question was impossible not to get, so she mentally prepared her cheerful response when this caller inevitably won.

" _The trumpet._ "

"Mhm."

" _The saxophone._ "

"One more..."

Silence.

Beca held her breath. _Come on... you can get this... literally_ any _instrument would do._

" _Beca Mitchell?_ "

She exhaled quietly. "Yes?"

" _You were in a band called The Barden Bellas, were you not?_ "

Beca had received many calls from fans curious about her history with the once-popular all-female rock group, but after almost a year at the station, she didn't expect there to be more.

"Yes, I was."

" _And you played the drums?"_

"I did. Is that your—?"

" _Were you the reason the band broke up?_ "

Beca froze. Even the engineer looked at her in shock through the glass separating them. No one outside the five girls and their manager knew what had really happened to the band, but the rumours never ceased to capture people's imaginations (and vice versa). And never had any one Bella been directly confronted with the responsibility.

Beca pulled herself together and remembered the party line. "The Bellas—we separated to pursue our own things for a while. Our music will always be something we share and treasure. And, I'm sorry, but your final answer is?"

There was another pause. Beca felt oddly as though she had just lost a battle and the invisible face behind the voice was smirking down at her failure.

" _The drums. Thank you, Beca Mitchell._ "

"That's three for three. Please stay on the line to exchange details with our staff. Thanks for playing," she said stiffly. "Meanwhile, the rest of us can get on with our weekly discussion. Tonight, it's all about Latin jazz. I hope you're all excited to hear from our brothers in the south, right after these messages from our sponsors."

Beca pulled the headphones off, exited the studio, and entered the control room. Bob, her engineer, had just put down the phone as she closed the door behind her and was wearing a bewildered expression on his face.

"Was that the caller?" Beca asked him.

"Yes. She, uh, she didn't want the tickets," Bob said with a frown. "She said _you_ could have them."

Beca leaned against the wall and crossed her arms. "I thought she was winning them for a friend?"

Bob shrugged. "Maybe she meant you," he joked. But then seemed to consider the possibility. "Did she sound familiar?"

"No. But everyone sounds a bit off on the air, don't they?" She pointed at the notepad on his desk. "What was her name?"

"That's another strange thing," he said. "She didn't give her details since she wasn't accepting the tickets but she did say she goes by," he looked down at the pad, "Der Kommissar."

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello, everyone! So as I mentioned in the last chapter, rather than starting an entirely different story, I decided to just tack on the 'Epilogue' to the end—in quotes because it's not really an epilogue, since it's multi-chapter and has its own plot. I couldn't think of a name for a sequel so I'll just leave it as a continuation.

(It's hard to believe my last upload was only 2 months ago. My life feels like such a mess now compared to back then and writing seems to be my only escape. Future me, if you're reading this, I hope things worked out.)


	17. Part II: Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

Stacie thanked the waiter for her second glass of wine and absentmindedly thumbed the corner of her precious datebook. The restaurant at which she had a table reserved was beautifully rustic and uniquely quiet for its location at the heart of town, but she could only admire her surroundings for so long. Glancing at her watch, she wondered when the roles got reversed and she was now the one to be kept waiting.

Eventually, she was joined at the table by her scheduled 'date.'

"I feel like I've been waiting my whole life for you," she said dully as the normally punctual blonde lowered herself to her seat.

"Then maybe I should have come later," Aubrey responded cheekily. "Sorry. I was working on—"

"The set. Yes." Stacie didn't want to dive into the issue just yet, so she gestured at a waiter for a menu. "Why don't we order first?"

"Oh." Aubrey looked around the table and noticed, for the first time, the absence of food. "Actually, I had a late breakfast so I thought we could just have a quick chat while _you_ had lunch. I still have to get back to work."

"Oh, come on, it's just _one_ lunch," said Stacie. "You've been working so hard—"

"Something a _normal_ manager would be delighted about," Aubrey pointed out.

"Sure, but I'm not just a manager," smiled Stacie. "I'm also an artist developer and I think my artist would benefit from a lunch break."

Aubrey rolled her eyes. "Fine. But I'll just get dessert."

Stacie grinned as she reflected on how much easier it was to argue with Aubrey now. After almost a year working together, it was safe to say that the bake sale recipe thievery was water under the bridge. Once Aubrey had discovered that Stacie possessed a more calculating mind than she had first thought, she grew more eager to strategize with her. Stacie, on her part, was more than pleased to impress Aubrey with her business acumen, particularly when she had successfully launched Aubrey's solo career without tarnishing The Barden Bellas name amid their breakup.

Now, however, the honeymoon phase of Aubrey's debut album was over and they both had to deal with the future. Aubrey was already hard at work— _when was she not?_ —writing new songs while her album tour was scheduled in the fall. If Stacie couldn't get through to her now while her mind wasn't completely made up on her sophomore album, it would be too late.

But Aubrey's manager chose only to smile and make small talk throughout their lunch. She had planned to ease it out slowly; the work-is-off-limits lunch was only the first step (of many) to prepare Aubrey for the big ask.

* * *

Beca had spent the entire journey home from work thinking about the mysterious caller. She had been so spooked by it that she didn't open the line for requests later in the show as she usually did, even though she doubted the woman would call twice.

Evidently, she wasn't the only one worried about the incident. After pulling into the driveway and climbing up the steps, she entered her apartment and was greeted by a very concerned Chloe.

"I caught the show at the diner," she said, looking closely at Beca. "That was a strange call. Did you ever find out who the lady was?"

Beca shook her head. "She didn't even claim the tickets she won. And she only gave Bob an alias… Der Kommissar."

"She was German?"

Beca's bag slipped from her hands and fell onto the couch with a _thump._ She stared at Chloe. "G-German? What makes you think that?"

" _Der Kommissar_ ," Chloe repeated. "I know 'der' is tacked on to the beginning of German nouns but I'm not sure what a 'Kommissar' is. It's close to English so maybe it's a commissioner? A commissary?"

Beca didn't answer but lowered herself onto the couch slowly. Chloe immediately noticed her thoughtful expression and joined her. "Beca, what is it?"

"This is going to sound crazy but—"

An unexpected knock on the door was enough to cut Beca short. They never had any visitors in their small apartment and had a mutual understanding with their landlord to keep their interactions as few and far between as possible outside of paying their rent.

The girls stared at the door in confusion for a moment before the person on the other side knocked again. "Beca? Chloe?"

"It's Stacie," said Beca, rising to let her in. "Hey."

The taller brunette entered their apartment and greeted them with quick hugs. "Sorry, I know it's late but I also know Beca comes home around this time anyway."

"Yeah, you're lucky we weren't in the middle of something," Chloe joked lightly. "What can we do for you, Stace?"

Stacie bit her lip. "This is going to sound crazy but," (Beca and Chloe exchanged amused looks over the déjà vu) "I have a message to deliver to Beca from someone I met at an event this morning. She didn't tell me her name but she wanted me to tell you that you… ' _dropped your sticks'_."

Beca didn't flinch but at the news of another mysterious message addressed to her girlfriend, Chloe's eyes narrowed in concern. "She?"

"A woman," nodded Stacie. "And I have to say, I'm proud of my long, sexy legs, but this woman could give me a run for my money. The accent threw me off but I'm guessing you two know each other?"

"Accent, huh? It wouldn't happen to be _German_ now, would it?" asked Chloe. When Stacie gave an affirmative look, she rounded on Beca with her hands on her hips. "What's going on, Beca? Is this the same woman who called the station?"

"Wait, she called you at work, too?" Stacie said, surprised. "That's… creepy."

"Has she contacted you before? Is she _stalking_ you—?"

"Chloe, relax," Beca quickly assured the redhead, who was starting to get riled up. "It's nothing serious that like, it's just… I guess I just never thought we would see each other again."

" _Oh_." Stacie raised her eyebrows knowingly. "An ex?"

Beca shook her head furiously hard when Chloe gave her a dangerous look. "No! She's my old bandmate! Or at least, I think she is. She had a normal name back in Portland—Luisa."

The two watched as Beca opened the nearby closet and pulled out a shoebox. "She tried to contact me back when the Bellas were on tour but I've been ignoring her mail. I felt guilty because—"

"Because it looked like you ditched them and hitched your wagon to a rising star," Stacie said understandingly. "I get it. Adopting a stage name is pretty common in the business, but are you sure it's the same woman?"

"I don't know many tall blondes with an accent and a grudge against me," Beca said dryly. She chanced a glance at Chloe and was relieved to see that her story was accepted, so she found it safe to ask Stacie, "How did you meet her anyway? What is she doing in LA?"

"That's actually the other reason I came over," said Stacie. "The event I attended this morning was arranged by the LA County Music and Performing Arts Commission. It was a press conference to announce a Battle of the Bands competition. And I'm guessing…"

"She's in it?"

Stacie nodded slowly. "The East Coast division is about done with their rounds, so I'm willing to bet that she and her band are the New England finalists."

"They won? Good for them," said Beca, absent-mindedly returning the letters into the shoebox and into the closet. "Is she recording with a studio here in LA? Is it Residual Heat?"

"Er, actually…"

"Beca, I think Stacie is trying to say that Luisa—Kommissar—is here to _compete_ in the Battle of the Bands," Chloe explained calmly, "and that she wants you to join as well."

Both brunettes turned to her in shock, one in bewilderment at the outrageous notion and the other in awe at her uncanny prescience.

* * *

 _Earlier that day…_

"Sweetie, could you give table nineteen a refill, please?"

Chloe spun around and stuck her pencil behind her ear after passing an order to the kitchens. "On it!" She grabbed the coffee pot and glided across the restaurant, toward the man with his hand in the air.

"Thank you," he said warmly as she filled his cup and proceeded to down it entirely. In response to Chloe's cocked head he explained, "I'm late for a press conference."

"You, too, huh?" she laughed. "Does _everyone_ in this town work in the entertainment industry?"

The man smiled and laid down a few bills. "It's where the money is, Miss. Thank you for the coffee—keep the change." He tipped his hat to her and went on his hurried way.

Chloe dropped the extra cash into the tip jar and her boss blew an impressed whistle. "That was a generous tip! I did say you are the best thing that ever happened to my little diner."

"Well, Joyce, if that's true then I feel bad for those who came before me," said Chloe, leaning on the counter as she waited for dishes to come through from the kitchen. "But not as bad as I feel for the people in this town. Jeez, if only a bit of cheer from is enough to turn their days around, there must not be a lot of happiness in their lives."

"Life is tough out here," shrugged Joyce. "It's a dog eat dog world and not everyone has your sunny disposition to help them through it."

"Hmm."

Joyce shook her head. "Silly me, I forgot. You know all about this already! And speaking of your _secret past_ ," she whispered the two words comically, "how's your girl doing? Still hating her job?"

"Beca doesn't _hate_ her job at the station, she's just… bored." Chloe looked at the tip jar longingly. "Just a bit more and I can fix that."

"You've been saving your tips for months now and you still haven't gotten her a set of drums?—Order up!"

"Well, I had a major setback when she wanted to get that combo washer dryer or something," Chloe said, rolling her eyes and picking up the tray that slid through the kitchen window. "Obviously I couldn't tell her I was saving the money for something else. I want it to be a surprise."

"A washer dryer, huh? That girl is a keeper."

Chloe gave her boss a 'don't encourage her' look before bringing the food to the customers. After the couple thanked her, she went further down the restaurant to clean up one of the other tables near the exit when she saw a familiar face beyond the front windows.

The two stared at each other for a moment before Chloe shook herself awake and waved her inside.

Aubrey entered looking uncharacteristically nervous and guilty, so Chloe tried to make her comfortable by seating her in a quiet corner booth. She motioned to Joyce for a five-minute break before plopping herself down across the blonde.

"You know, I wasn't lying when I said I hoped you'd drop by the restaurant once in a while," said Chloe, beginning the conversation she knew Aubrey wouldn't. "That was months ago. What, did you think I would serve you poisoned food?"

"To be fair, it was a genuine possibility at the time," Aubrey responded jokingly with a small smile. With the ice broken, she relaxed and apologized for not visiting sooner. "I felt that things were still really awkward between us, especially since you decided to stay. And then I got busy with work and… well, it got even more awkward the longer I waited."

Chloe nodded and leaned back into the vinyl seat. Having been raised by parents of high public status and educated in a Catholic school, Chloe was always conscious of displaying all the good virtues expected from her. It was what made her, categorically, a "nice" person.

But being nice didn't always mean being good or being helpful, and when Aubrey had pointed that out last summer no amount of virtue Chloe possessed could make the pain hurt any less. Chloe had wanted to forgive Aubrey, even though she believed there was _nothing_ to forgive, which left her in a strange predicament of not knowing where they stood.

And Aubrey was right; Chloe had exacerbated the issue by staying in LA. If she had gone back to Barden, an exchange of heartfelt letters would have cleared things up without the awkward face-to-face tension. Instead, Stacie had served as their mediator during the days following their unofficial break-up, and throughout negotiations it had been clear that Aubrey still thought her staying was a mistake. It was for that reason that Beca was still on frosty terms with the singer to this day.

"Bree, I don't want things to be awkward between us forever," said Chloe. "For one thing, I don't want to know what happens when we break a 'best friends forever' promise." Aubrey smiled at the childhood memory. "And for another, we've both been in LA for a year and I don't know about you, but I could really use another friend in this town."

Aubrey seemed happy and relieved. "I feel the same way, Chloe. This thing between us is too heavy to keep holding on to the rest of our lives. I know I've revealed my feelings about you staying but that doesn't mean we can't agree to disagree."

"That was the problem with us, growing up, wasn't it?" Chloe laughed. "We always had to _agree_ to agree."

"Now we can just deal with our disagreements head on! But for what it's worth, you do seem really happy," noted Aubrey. "Although, to be honest I thought Beca would go back to making music by now. She's really talented."

"I know. I've been waiting for it, too," sighed Chloe. "I thought maybe after I graduated she would get back into it, but she just got promoted at the station and I'd be lying if I said we didn't need the money. The royalties are just enough to cover rent."

"Stacie mentioned you're working two jobs… I applaud your work ethic, Chlo, but are you sure you're okay?" Aubrey looked at her closely. "You're happy, right?"

"It's a challenge, definitely," admitted Chloe, "but I think I've gotten used to it. Real life goes on much slower than I imagined," she mused with a chuckle. "It's feels like putting one foot in front of the other, day after day."

Aubrey hummed. "And Beca?"

"Oh, I have a plan for her," Chloe said with a mischievous smile. "I'm really close to having enough saved for a quality set of drums. I'm sure if she had the option to play at home instead of in gigs every now and then she'd get back into it."

Aubrey nodded and hesitated for a moment before asking, "Do _you_ want to get back into it?"

Ever since she had regained the ability to sing a tune, Chloe had had an answer prepared for the inevitable question of returning to music. "I do love writing songs and working out melodies," she said. "And I still do them at home sometimes, but I don't think I ever want to do it _professionally_ again. After all the drama we went through, it's just too complicated now, you know? I want music to be fun and relaxing, not like a nine-to-five job—not that I think you're doing the wrong thing," she added quickly.

"Relax. We can agree to disagree now, right?" smiled Aubrey. "And I understand where you're coming from. You've always been free-spirited, and the business _is_ a rough contrast to the artistry."

"But rewarding, too, I bet. You're going on tour this fall, aren't you?" Chloe said proudly. "That's exciting."

"Sure, but I was lucky the album did okay—"

Chloe raised her eyebrows. "Aubrey Posen! Did you just use the _L-word_?"

Aubrey laughed. "I spent last summer being told that hard work doesn't always get you what you want, but I only _really_ understood that after my songs were put out there for everyone to judge. It was like being in a freefall… I had no control. It really was up to luck."

"Well, I'm glad you saw some development in your already perfect character," Chloe teased. "Seriously though, I'm happy for you."

"Thank you."

Chloe knew Aubrey wouldn't do it, so she reached across the table and held her hand in a gesture of friendship. The blonde smiled gratefully and squeezed back.

 _Empathy_ and _humility?_ _Aubrey sure has changed in one year,_ Chloe thought pleasantly. _She really does deserve to be here._

Chloe glanced at the clock and saw that it was a little past ten in the morning. "Hey, it's not too late for breakfast. Joyce makes the best eggs and bacon in the entire West Coast. That, and coffee—what do you say?"

"You know what? I'd love some," said Aubrey, realizing she hadn't eaten anything that morning out of nerves. "And maybe I could buy you a cup, too, and we could talk more?"

Chloe beamed. "Comin' right up!"

Aubrey smiled as she watched Chloe get on with her job, walking up to the kitchen to call out the order and refilling people's coffee on her way to serve hers. She kept watching her until a feeling—a not unexpected feeling of second-hand regret—settled in the pit of her stomach, and she turned away.

* * *

"So Aubrey told you she was having trouble writing her next album?" Stacie rested the back of her hand on her forehead dramatically. "Thank God!"

Beca looked between her and Chloe in confusion. "I don't get it. What does Aubrey's problem have to do with Luisa and the Battle of the Bands that you're apparently asking me to join?"

Stacie gestured toward the couch to indicate that they should sit. Chloe took out some beers from the fridge while Stacie began to explain Aubrey's predicament.

"As I'm sure you know from working at a radio station, Beca, the music scene is constantly evolving. The whole counterculture phenomenon and the British Invasion shaped popular music in the past few years, but now these bands, their styles are changing.

"From a creative perspective, that's all well and good, but from a _business_ perspective," Stacie put a hand to her chest, "it's a struggle to be ahead of the curve at all times. We can't spend time and money producing a record that would have been a hit _six months_ ago."

"Oh, I get it. So your problem is, Aubrey won't budge on her music, is that it?" sneered Beca. "Typical, stubborn—"

"Actually, Beca, Aubrey acknowledges that she's a bit lost on how to compromise," Chloe said patiently and, knowing where Stacie was headed with this discussion, added, "Please don't be too hard on her. She really has changed a lot."

"While I am glad I no longer have the difficult task of telling her she needs to change things up," continued Stacie, "the problem still remains. I can hold off the recording for a few months, but she really needs something to shake her up, breathe new life into her."

Beca raised a skeptical eyebrow. "And you'll do this how? By—?" Then she suddenly remembered the original topic of conversation. Her jaw dropped. "Are you serious—you want me to play the drums for _her_?! For a _Battle of the Bands_ competition?!"

"It makes sense, babe," Chloe reasoned, employing the term of endearment to gain favor. "You were the first person to _breathe new life_ into her lyrics. You both have vastly different styles and you two are the most musically talented people I know! Throw in a competition and you two will be music-making goddesses!"

Stacie splayed her arms out, silently saying that those were her exact arguments.

"Forget it." Beca shook her head. "Just get the band she used on her album to do it."

"Didn't you listen to anything Chloe just said? It has to be _you_ ," said Stacie. "She needs someone to _challenge_ her! Her backing band doesn't have the power to affect her music as a solo artist but if you formed a _band_ —"

Beca was about to open her mouth and decline once more when she caught Chloe's eye. All the persistent and indignant energies left her body at the sight of Chloe's large, hopeful blue eyes and her bottom lip ever so slightly in a pout. But it wasn't the (admittedly adorable) look that she knew Chloe was purposely putting on that swayed her; it was the sincerity behind it, saying that Chloe really wanted this to happen, not just for Aubrey but for Beca, too.

But working with Aubrey, after everything that had happened between them, was simply too excruciatingly awkward; not least because Beca was all too aware that Aubrey thought she was the reason her best friend was ruining her life.

So Beca gave one last effort to strike the offer down without being the bad guy. "Is Aubrey even eligible for the competition?" she said dispassionately. "From what I remember, Battle of the Bands is for amateurs; Aubrey is a signed professional."

As though prompted, Stacie shoved her hand in her purse and fished out a pamphlet. Her eyes twinkling, she unfolded it to a certain page and handed it to Beca. "You're absolutely right, Beca. But thanks to a little technicality," she said smugly, "the _band_ must not be signed. There's nothing about _one_ of the members being signed."

Beca's jaw dropped for the second time that evening. "You're sneaking her in on a _technicality_? What is it with you and finding loopholes in wording?" When Stacie merely shrugged, she blew a low whistle. "The other contestants will _hate_ her."

"They would… if she were the only artist who enters the competition already signed."

Beca narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Well, the reason everything feels so rushed is because the organizers had last-minute negotiations with the record labels. In exchange for sponsoring a nationwide competition, they would allow a couple of 'underperforming' solo artists to compete, as long as they were _in an ensemble_."

"I never thought I'd be the first person to come to Aubrey's defense but I wouldn't exactly call four singles on the Hot 100 'underperforming.'" Beca folded her arms decidedly. "You know what, now I'm against this for _another_ reason. This is completely unfair for amateur bands who try hard to make it, paying their dues—"

"But think about it this way," Stacie interjected, prepping her golden tongue for the hard sell, "what advantage do these artists _actually_ have over the amateurs? Producers? It's still in the rules that all songs and compositions have to be original. Experience? That matters little in a Battle of the Bands competition."

She pointed at the pamphlet. "The winner is decided by a seventy-thirty split between audience and impartial judges—music journalists and the like. What I'm saying is,this purely about _talent_! Amateur bands have more to win by proving that they are on par with professionals."

Beca was on the verge of asking what was in it for said professionals, but the answer was obvious. As was the case with nearly everything Stacie concerned herself with, it was all about marketing. The first ever nationwide Battle of the Bands competition, backed by all the major record labels, was guaranteed to attract a lot of attention from the musically inclined, which meant more publicity for their lesser-known artists.

It was a perfect business strategy and Beca had to admit, as a former Battler herself (she had frequently competed in small-scale Battle of the Bands in her youth) that the opportunity to outshine someone more privileged was reason enough to sign up.

So now she had no reason to say no to helping Aubrey and no reason to turn down a reasonably fair competition. Her rational mind told her to flip the pamphlet over and read the rest of the guidelines. Apart from a few Saturdays off for the elimination rounds, it wouldn't disrupt her day job that much. They could still get by.

Beca turned to her partner beside her and let out a small sigh. "Do you really want me to do this?"

Chloe took her hands and looked deep into her eyes. "Beca, all I ever really want is for you to be happy. I can tell you miss making music—and _I_ miss you making music! My gut tells me that this is something amazing and I want you to be a part of it."

Beca ran her fingers along Chloe's and felt the beginnings of calluses on the tips. Chloe had been playing guitar and singing more and more over the past few months and Beca suddenly wondered if that was her dropping subtle hints. "And you'll be there with me?" she asked softly.

"Every step of the way," Chloe replied, kissing her gently on the lips. "I am your number one fan, after all," she added with a wink.

"Oh, how sweet," Stacie cooed. "I'm so glad the Bellas broke up so you two could shack up in here and be all lovey-dovey, happily ever after."

Beca rolled her eyes. Stacie never failed to bring up her conviction that she shouldn't have given up on drumming. "Get over it. It was the right decision for all of us. Just tell Aubrey I'm willing to be civil if she is. It says here that auditions are in two weeks; when do you reckon she'd be free to meet?"

The mischievous twinkle in Stacie's eye returned. "I'll let you know when I tell her about the competition."

Beca should just keep her mouth permanently open; it would save her the effort of dropping her jaw. " _She doesn't even know about this?!_ " she hissed, and then stuttered at Chloe, "But how did you—? I thought she—?"

"Aubrey only told me she was having a mental block with her music," the redhead shrugged innocently. "Stacie's her manager, so when she came over talking about a competition your former bandmate is in, I put two and two together. Stacie looked like she needed help getting to the point so I went ahead and said it."

Stacie raised a bottle to Chloe appreciatively and nodded at Beca, "She's a keeper, this one." She took a swig and daintily wiped her mouth before adding, "And speaking of your former bandmate, don't think you're only doing this as a favor to Aubrey. You have a personal stake in this competition, too, Becs."

"I do?"

"' _You dropped your sticks,'_ " Stacie repeated ominously. "And you said this woman called you at the station? I don't know about you, but it looks like a challenge to me."

"She asked if you were to blame for the Bellas breaking up," Chloe murmured, her frown deepening. "She wanted to remind you of her—of your first band. Babe, it does seem like this Kommissar woman has a vendetta against you."

Beca groaned. "Look, just let me worry about _Luisa._ As far as I'm concerned, this is just another drumming gig—for which I expect to be paid," she added pointedly at Stacie. "I'll talk to her and explain everything. I'm sure she'll understand and we can get this drama over with before it turns into something nasty."

Chloe and Stacie exchanged looks. The latter's shoulders sagged and she shook her head in disappointment. "You're no fun," she pouted. "Drama is what keeps this town alive, Beca! You should be all charged up, saying, 'We're gonna kick her ass!'"

Beca leaned back and wrapped an arm around a giggling Chloe. "Aren't we a little too old for that?" she said airily.

"You're nine _teen_ , Beca, not _ninety_!" laughed Stacie. "We seriously need to get you out of the station more. Your spirit is shrivelling up like an old, bitter raisin."

"Hey!"

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 **Response to Reviews:**

 **RJRMovieFan** (Aug. 22) - Thanks for the review! Yes, like PP2 this sequel will have a more distinct antagonist in the form of Kommissar, and a Battle of the Bands competition really was the perfect parallel for the World Championships.

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 **A/N:** I saw on tumblr that one of the generally accepted names for Kommissar in the fandom (particularly among the Becommissar shippers) was 'Luisa'. I didn't want to come up with another name but it also irked me that _Luisa_ is more Spanish/Italian than Germanic, so join me in pretending that her actual name is Ludwiga (oh yes, this is an actual name; I did not just glue an 'A' to the end of a popular masculine German name) and that she asked people to call her Luisa instead because once upon a time she was a small bundle of insecurity and not yet the self-confident woman she grew up to be.


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